TATTLE  -TALES 
OF  CUPID 


Copyri 


PAUL  LEICESTER  FORD 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


TATTLE-TALES  OF  CUPID 


TATTLE-TALES 

OF 

CUPID 


TOLD  BY 

PAUL  LEICESTER  FORD 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1896, 
BY  HARPER  AND  BROTHERS. 

Copyright,  1898, 
BY  THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Copyright,  1898, 
BY  PAUL  LEICESTER  FORD. 


TO    MT   PLAYMATE 

My  dear  Dona  : 

Once  upon  a  time  two  children  read  aloud  together 
more  or  less  of  Darwin ,  Spencer ',  Lye  I  I,  Goethe,  Car- 
lyle,  Taine,  and  other  writers  of  equal  note.  Though 
the  books  were  somewhat  above  their  comprehension,  and 
certainly  not  so  well  suited  to  their  years  as  fairy-tales 
and  romances,  both  the  choice  and  the  rejection  were 
deliberately  made  and  consistently  maintained.  The 
discrimination  originated  neither  in  excessive  fondness 
of  fact,  nor  in  the  slightest  dislike  of  fiction ;  being  solely 
due  to  a  greater  preference  for  the  stories  they  them- 
selves created  than  for  those  they  found  in  booh. 
Presently,  one  of  these  two,  having  found  a  new  play- 
felloiv,  stopped  inventing  and  acting  and  living  their 
joint  imaginings,  and  the  other  one  had  to  go  on  playing 
by  himself.  But  he  has  never  forgotten  the  original 
impulse,  and  so,  in  collecting  the  offspring  of  some  of 
his  earliest  and  some  of  his  latest  play-hours,  his 


vi  To  My  Playmate 

thoughts  recur  to  the  years  of  the  old  partnership^  and 
he  cannot  please  himself  better  than  by  putting  his 
playmate^  where  she  truly  belongs^  at  the  beginning  of 
his  "  imaginary  "  playthings. 


NOTE 

*«  His  Version  of  It "  is  reprinted  in 
this  form  by  permission  of  the  Century 
Company. 

u  The  Cortelyou  Feud  "  is  reprinted 
by  permission  of  Messrs.  Harper  and 
Brothers. 


Contents 
i 

Stories  PAGE 

His  VERSION  OF  IT 3 

A  WARNING  TO  LOVERS 49 

"SAUCE  FOR  THE  GOOSE" 87 

THE  CORTELYOU  FEUD 103 

Plays 

"THE  BEST  LAID  FLAWS" 133 

PROPOSES" 197 


Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

HIS   VERSION   OF    IT 


"OHE's    a    darling!"    exclaimed    the 
O     bay  mare,  between  munches  of  the 
big  red  apple. 

"  That 's  just  what  she  is  !  "  responded 
the  off  carriage-horse ;  and  then,  as  part 
of  his  apple  fell  to  the  floor,  he  added 
fretfully :  "  I  do  wish,  Lassie,  that  you 
girls  would  n't  talk  to  a  fellow  when  he  's 
doing  something  !  You  Ve  made  me  lose 
half  my  apple  ! " 

Old  Reveille,  with  the  prudence  of 
twenty-eight  years  of  experience,  care- 
fully deposited  the  unmasticated  fraction 
of  his  apple  beside  an  uneaten  one  in 
his  manger  before  remarking  reflectively : 
"  She  's  a  thoroughbred ;  but  she  's  not  the 
beauty  her  mother  was  at  the  same  age." 


4  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"Fie!"  reproved  one  of  the  cobs: 
"  how  can  you  be  so  ungallant,  when  she 
always  gives  you  an  extra  apple  or  piece 
of  sugar  ?  " 

"  I  call  it  shameful  unfairness,"  growled 
the  nigh  horse  of  the  pair.  "  She  does  n't 
keep  you  up  till  two  or  three  in  the  morn- 
ing at  balls  and  cotillions.  She  does  n't 
so  much  as  ride  you  in  the  park,  as 
she  does  Lassie  or  Bubbles.  When  you 
have  n't  done  a  step  of  work  in  six  years, 
and  spend  your  summers  out  in  the  pas- 
ture and  your  winters  in  a  box-stall  eat- 
ing your  head  off,  why  should  you  get  a 
double  portion  ? " 

"Yes,"  whinnied  Bubbles,  plaintively; 
"  and,  what 's  more,  she  always  kisses 
you." 

Reveille,  who  meantime  had  swallowed 
his  first  apple,  looked  up  with  a  lofty 
smile  of  superiority.  Then  he  slowly 
winked  his  off  eye,  remarked,  "  Naturally, 
you  don't  understand  it,"  and  fell  to  lip- 
ping his  second  apple  caressingly,  previous 
to  the  decisive  crunch.  "  See  if  that 


His  Version  of  It  5 

doesn't  drive  the  women  wild,"  he  cogi- 
tated, with  a  grin. 

"  Now  is  n't  that  just  like  a  man ! "  com- 
plained Lassie.  "  As  if  it  was  n't  enough 
to  get  more  than  his  share,  but  he  must 
go  and  have  a  secret  along  with  it." 

"Huh!"  grunted  the  polo  pony,  who 
was,  of  necessity,  the  brains-carrier  of  the 
stable ;  "  if  it 's  family  property,  it  can't 
be  much  of  a  secret;  for  I  never  heard 
of  anything  to  which  six  humans  were 
privy  that  did  n't  at  once  become  town 
gossip.  And  they  must  be  aware  of  it, 
for,  from  the  Major  to  the  Minor,  they  dis- 
criminate in  favor  of  Reveille  in  a  manner 
most  reprehensible."  The  polo  pony  was 
famous  for  the  choiceness  of  his  language 
and  the  neatness  of  his  wit;  but  he  was 
slightly  vain,  as  was  shown  by  his  adding  : 
"  Pretty  good,  that,  eh  ?  Major  —  that 's 
the  man  we  take  out  riding  or  driving. 
Minor  —  that 's  the  three-year-old.  Do 
you  hitch  up  to  that  post  ? " 

"  Do  they  all  know  your  secret,  Re- 
veille ? "  asked  Lassie,  ingratiatingly. 


6  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  They  think  they  do,"  replied  the 
veteran.  "  They  don't,  though,"  he  added  ; 
and  then,  heaving  a  sigh,  he  continued  : 
"  But  the  roan  filly  did,  and  Mr.  Lewis's 
big  grey,  and  dear  old  Sagitta  —  that  was 
the  Russian  wolf-hound,  who  died  before 
any  of  you  youngsters  joined  our  set." 

"  Then  I  fail  to  perceive,"  remarked  the 
polo  pony,  "  why  they  should  treat  you 
differently,  if  they  are  ignorant  of  the  cir- 
cumstances to  which  you  refer." 

"  My  dear  colt,"  retorted  Reveille, "  when 
you  are  grown  to  horsehood  you  will  learn 
that  we  are  all  governed  by  our  imagina- 
tions, and  not  by  our  knowledge.  Why 
do  you  shy  at  a  scrap  of  white  paper  ? 
Superficially  because  you  are  nearly  re- 
lated to  an  ass,  actually  because  your 
fancy  makes  it  into  a  white  elephant." 

"  And  how  about  your  putting  your 
head  and  tail  up,  and  careering  all  over 
the  home  lot,  last  summer,  just  because 
our  Major  fired  his  revolver  at  a  hawk? 
Were  you  an  ass,  too  ?  "  saucily  questioned 
one  of  the  cobs. 


His  Version  of  It  7 

"  Probably,"  assented  the  oldster,  gen- 
ially ;  "  for  that  very  incident  proves  my 
point.  What  that  shot  reminded  me  of 
was  the  last  time  I  heard  my  Major  fire 
his  revolver.  I  saw  a  long,  gentle  slope, 
up  which  a  brigade  of  '  secesh '  were 
charging  to  a  railroad  embankment  pro- 
tected by  a  battery  of  twelve-pounders  fir- 
ing six  rounds  of  case-shot  to  the  minute. 
And  I  was  right  among  the  guns  again, 
seeing  and  hearing  it  all ;  and  my  Major 
—  only  he  was  a  captain  then  —  was 
saying  as  coolly  and  quietly  as  he  orders 
the  carriage  now:  'Steady,  men,  steady! 
There 's  a  hundred  yards  yet,  and  they 
can't  stand  it  to  the  finish.  Double 
charge  with  canister  !  Three  more  rounds 
will  settle  them.'  Which  was  just  what  it 
did.  We  horses,  with  the  aid  of  the  men 
and  guns,  held  the  Weldon  railroad, 
and  Lee  and  his  mules  stopped  holding 
Richmond." 

"  Does  n't  he  tell  a  story  beautifully  ? " 
remarked  Bubbles,  in  a  distinctly  audible 
aside  to  Lassie. 


8  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  I  Ve  never  known  a  better  raconteur," 
answered  Lassie,  in  a  stage  whisper  of 
equal  volume. 

"  Lay  you  a  peck  of  oats  to  a  quart  that 
the  girls  get  that  secret  out  of  him,"  whis- 
pered the  Major's  saddle-horse,  who,  as  a 
Kentuckian  of  thoroughbred  stock,  had 
sporting  and  race-track  proclivities. 

"  Not  with  me  !  "  denied  the  second  cob. 
"  Besides,  no  gentleman  ever  bets  on  a 
certainty.  Gaze  at  the  self-satisfied  look 
on  the  old  fool's  phiz.  Lord!  how  a 
pretty  face  and  figure,  combined  with  flat- 
tery, can  come  it  round  the  old  ones  !  " 

There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it.  Re- 
veille was  smirking,  though  trying  not  to 
desperately;  and  to  aid  his  attempt,  he 
went  on,  with  a  pretence  of  unconscious 
musing,  as  if  he  were  still  in  the  past: 
"  Yes ;  we  are  ruled  by  our  imaginations, 
and,  consequently,  though  I  have  reached 
the  honourable  but  usually  neglected  period 
in  life  which  retires  an  officer  and  a  horse 
from  active  service,  I  get  a  box-stall  and 
extra  rations  and  perquisites." 


His  Version  of  It  9 

"  How  rarely  is  the  story-telling  faculty 
united  with  the  philosophical  mind ! "  so- 
liloquised Bubbles  to  the  rafters. 

"  And  how  rarely,"  rejoined  Lassie,  "are 
those  two  qualities  combined  with  a  fin- 
ished, yet  graphic,  style !  " 

"  I  would  gladly  tell  you  that  story," 
said  the  old  war-horse,  "  but  it  is  n't  one 
to  be  repeated.  Every  horse  who  is  n't  a 
cow  —  to  make  an  Irish  bull,  which,  by 
the  bye,  is  a  very  donkeyish  form  of  joke  — 
has  done  certain  things  that  he  has  keenly 
regretted,  even  though  he  believes  that  he 
acted  for  the  good — just  as  brave  soldiers 
will  act  as  spies,  honourable  lawyers  defend 
a  scoundrel,  and  good  women  give  'at 
homes.'" 

"  What  a  decadence  there  has  been  in 
true  wit ! "  remarked  Lassie,  apropos  of 
nothing.  "  It  is  such  a  pleasure  to  be  put 
next  a  horse  at  dinner  whose  idea  of 
humour  was  formed  before  youthful  pert- 
ness  was  allowed  to  masquerade  as  wit." 

"  It  is  a  mortification  to  me  to  this  day," 
went  on  Reveille,  "  even  though  the  out- 


io  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

come  has  justified  me.  You  know  what 
our  equine  code  of  honour  is  —  how  we 
won't  lie  or  trick  or  steal  or  kill,  as  the 
humans  do.  Well,  for  nearly  two  months 
I  was  as  false  and  tricky  as  a  man." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  dissented  Bubbles. 

"  The  truly  great  always  depreciate 
themselves,"  asserted  one  of  the  mares. 

"  No,  ladies,  I  speak  the  truth,"  reiter- 
ated the  warrior ;  "  even  now  the  memory 
galls  me  worse  than  a  spur." 

"  It  would  ease  your  conscience,  I  am 
sure,"  suggested  Bubbles,  "  to  confess  the 
wrong,  if  wrong  there  was.  A  highly  sen- 
sitive and  chivalric  nature  so  often  takes  a 
morbidly  extreme  view  of  what  is  at  most 
but  a  peccadillo." 

"  This,  alas  !  was  no  peccadillo,"  sighed 
Reveille,  "as  you  will  acknowledge  after 
hearing  it." 

"  I  may  be  a  colt,  but  I  'm  not  a  dolt," 
sneered  the  polo  pony  to  himself.  "  As  if 
we  were  n't  all  aware  that  the  garrulous 
old  fool  has  been  itching  to  inflict  his  long 
tail  upon  us  for  the  last  ten  minutes." 


His  Version  of  It  1 1 

"  My  one  consolation,"  continued  Re- 
veille, "is  that  the  roan  filly  was  in  the 
traces  with  me  and  an  equal  culprit  in  — ' 

"  I  thought  that  one  of  the  sex  of  Adam 
would  saddle  it  on  a  woman  before  he  got 
through,"  interjected  the  cob. 

"  Cherchez  la  femme  !  "  laughed  the  polo 
pony,  delighted  to  trot  out  his  French. 

"All  I  meant  to  suggest,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  affirmed  Reveille,  reflectively, 
"  is  that  a  woman  is  an  excuse  for  any- 
thing. If  this  world  is  a  fine  world,  it  is 
because  she  pulls  the  reins  more  often  for 
good  than  for  bad." 

" '  Those  who  always  praise  woman 
know  her  but  little;  those  who  always 
blame  her  know  her  not  at  all,'"  quoted 
the  worldly-wise  Kentuckian. 

Reveille  swallowed  the  last  fragment  of 
his  second  apple,  cleared  his  throat,  and 
began :  — 

"It  was  after  Five  Forks,  where  my 
Captain  got  a  major's  oak-leaf  added  to 
his  shoulder-straps,  and  a  Minie  ball  in 
his  arm,  that  the  thing  began.  When  he 


12  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

came  out  of  the  hospital  —  long  before  he 
should  have,  for  the  bone  had  been  shat- 
tered, and  took  its  own  time  to  knit  —  we 
hunsr  about  Washington,  swearing  at  our 

o  o  o 

bad  luck,  my  Major  suffering  worse  than 
a  docked  horse  in  fly-time  from  the  little 
splinters  of  bone  that  kept  working  out, 
and  I  eating  my  head  off  in  — " 

"  History  does  repeat  itself,"  murmured 
the  envious  carriage-horse. 

"  Well,  one  day,  after  nearly  three 
months  of  idleness,  when  I  was  about 
dead  with  stalldom,  I  permitted  the  orderly 
to  saddle  me,  and  after  a  little  dispute 
with  him  as  to  my  preferences,  I  let  him 
take  me  round  to  Scott  Square.  There 
for  the  first  time  I  met  the  roan  filly  and 
the  big  grey.  She  was  a  dear ! "  he  added, 
with  a  sigh,  and  paused  a  moment. 

"  Ah,  don't  stop  there !  "  begged  one  of 
the  ladies. 

"  Get  a  gait  on  you,"  exhorted  the  cob. 

Reveille  sighed  again  softly,  shook  his 
head,  and  then  came  back  to  the  present. 

"  '  May   you   never    lack   for   oats   and 


His  Version  of  It  13 

grass,'  said  I,  greeting  them  in  my  most 
affable  style. 

"  '  May  you  die  in  clover,'  responded  the 
grey,  nodding  politely. 

"  *  May  you  have  all  the  sugar  you  de- 
sire,' added  the  filly,  sweetly,  and  greeting 
me  with  a  graceful  toss  of  the  head.  That 
told  me  that  a  woman  belonged  to  her,  for 
men  never  give  sugar..  Sometimes,  on  a 
forced  march,  my  Major  used  to  divide  his 
ration  of  hardtack  with  me ;  but  I  never 
tasted  sugar  until  —  well,  we  mustn't  get 
ahead  too  fast." 

"  No  danger,  while  he  is  doing  the  lip- 
ping," grumbled  the  disagreeable  cob. 

" '  I  see  by  your  saddle  that  you  are  in 
the  service,'  remarked  the  big  grey.  '  I 
am  not  so  fortunate.  Between  ourselves, 
I  think  the  fellow  I  let  ride  me  would  do 
anything  sooner  than  fight  —  though,  now 
it's  all  over,  he  says  if  he'd  returned  from 
Europe  in  time  he  should  have  gone  into 
the  army.' 

"  I  shook  my  head  dejectedly.  '  I  'm  very 
much  off  my  feed,'  I  told  them.  '  My  Major 


14  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

is  not  able  to  ride,  and  won't  be  for  a  long 
time,  so  I  'm  horribly  afraid  I  Ve  been  sold. 
I  really  would  n't  have  believed  it  of  him ! ' 

'"What  things  man  is  capable  of 
doing ! '  sighed  the  filly,  with  tears  of  sym- 
pathy in  'her  eyes. 

"  *  Cheer  up,  comrade,'  cried  the  grey, 
consolingly.  '  Even  if  you  are  sold,  you 
might  be  worse  off.  You  are  still  a  saddle- 
horse,  and  as  Miss  Gaiety  and  I  both  have 
good  stables,  you  probably  will  have  the 
same  luck,  since  you  are  in  our  set.  The 
fellow  I  carry  spurred  my  predecessor, 
when  he  was  leg  weary,  at  an  impossible 
jump  in  Leicestershire,  and  because  he 
fell  short  and  spoiled  his  knees  the  brute 
ordered  him  sold,  and  he  was  put  to  drag- 
ging a  huckster's  cart,  besides  being  half 
starved.  You  're  not  so  bad  off  as  that  yet.' 

"Just  then  three  people  came  out  of  the 
house  before  which  we  were  standing,  and 
I  can't  tell  you  how  my  heart  jumped  with 
joy,  and  how  my  ears  went  forward,  when 
I  saw  that  one  of  them  was  my  Major. 
For  the  instant  I  was  so  happy  that  I  felt 


His  Version  of  It  15 

like  kicking  up ;  but  the  next  moment  I 
was  ready  to  die  with  mortification  at  the 
thought  of  how  I  had  cheapened  him 
to  strangers.  Think  of  my  saying  such 
things  to  them  of  the  best  man  that  ever 
lived! 

"  '  That 's  my  Major]  I  told  them,  arch- 
ing my  neck  and  flicking  my  tail  with 
pride.  '  He  held  the  Weldon  railroad 
without  —  '" 

"  But  you  told  us  a  little  while  ago," 
protested  Lassie,  "  that  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  hastily  broke  in  the  story- 
teller with  a  note  of  deprecation  in  his 
voice.  "  Don't  you  see,  girls,  that  having 
just  belittled  him,  I  had  to  give  him  the 
credit  of  it,  though  really  we  horses  — 
But  there,  I  won't  go  into  that  now." 

"  That  much  is  saved !  "  muttered  the  cob. 

"  Walpole,"  said  the  polo  pony,  "  well 
described  a  certain  period  of  life  when  he 
denied  that  a  man  was  in  his  dotage,  but 
suggested  that  he  was  in  his  '  anecdotage.'  " 

"It  was  far  from  my  intention  — " 
Reveille  began,  with  dignity. 


1 6  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  I  do  wish  you  would  bridle  your 
tongues,  the  two  of  you,"  snapped  Bubbles. 
"  It 's  just  what  I  should  expect  of  a  colt 
that  has  never  seen  anything  better  than  a 
poplar  ball  and  a  wooden  mallet,  and  so 
dislikes  to  hear  of  real  battles.  Please  pay 
no  heed  to  him,  Mr.  Reveille." 

"  We  don't  notice  either  of  them  one  curb 
or  snaffle  bit,"  declared  Lassie,  "  so  why 
should  you?  Forgive  me  for  interrupting 
you,  and  do  tell  us  what  you  told  the 
steeds  about  our  Major?" 

Reveille  hesitated,  and  then  resumed 
his  tale :  " '  His  battery  held  the  Weldon 
railroad  without  any  infantry  supports,' 
I  told  them,  adding, '  Sheridan's  right-hand 
man.  Perfect  devil  at  fighting,  and  the 
kindest  human  in  the  world.' 

"  The  roan  filly,  being  a  vroman,  an- 
swered :  *  He  looks  both ; '  but  the  grey, 
being  something  more  stupid,  remarked : 
*  Then  what  made  you  think  he  had  sold 
you  ? ' 

" '  Dear  Mr.  Solitaire,'  cried  the  mare, 
'you  must  know  that  we  all  say  things  in 


His  Version  of  It  17 

society,  not  because  we  think  them,  but  to 
make  conversation.  I  knew  Mr.  —  thank 
you,  Mr.  Reveille  —  was  joking  the  mo- 
ment he  spoke.'  1  tell  you,  gentlemen, 
women  can  put  the  blinders  on  facts  when 
they  really  try ! 

"  '  What  do  you  think  of  my  Felicia  ? ' 
asked  Miss  Gaiety. 

"  I  had  been  so  taken  up  with  my  dear 
that  I  had  n't  so  much  as  looked  at  hers. 
But,  oh,  fellows,  she  was  a  beauty !  Filly 
built,  right  through — just  made  to  be 
shown  off  by  a  habit ;  hair  as  smooth  as  a 
mare's  coat,  and  as  long  and  thick  as  an 
undocked  tail;  eyes  —  oh,  well,  halter  it! 
there  is  no  use  trying  to  describe  her  eyes, 
or  her  nose,  or  her  mouth,  or  her  smile. 
She  was  just  the  dearest,  loveliest  darling 
that  I  ever  did  see  ! 

"  Mr.  Lewis  was  putting  her  up,  while 
my  poor  dear  stood  watching  them,  with  a 
look  in  his  face  I  had  never  seen.  Now, 
when  there  was  anything  to  be  done,  my 
Major  was  always  the  man  who  did  it,  and 
it  puzzled  me  why  he  had  let  Mr.  Lewis  get 


1 8  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

the  better  of  him.  The  next  instant  I  saw 
that  his  right  arm  was  still  in  a  sling,  and 
that  his  sword-sash  was  used  to  tie  it  to 
his  body.  Then  I  knew  why  he  had  an 
up-and-down  line  in  his  forehead,  and  why 
he  bit  his  mustache. 

" '  Can  I  give  you  any  help,  Major 
Moran  ? '  asked  Mr.  Lewis,  when  he  had 
helped  Miss  Fairley  mount. 

"  '  Thanks,  no,'  answered  my  pal,  rather 
curtly,  I  thought;  and  putting  his  left 
hand  on  me,  into  the  saddle  he  vaulted. 
But  he  was  foolish  to  do  it,  as  he  said 
'Ouch!'  below  his  breath;  and  he  must 
have  turned  pale,  for  Miss  Fairley  cried  out, 
'  Mr.  Lewis,  quick !  He  's  going  to  faint ! ' 

" '  Nothing  of  the  kind,'  denied  my 
backer,  giving  a  good  imitation  laugh, 
even  while  his  hand  gripped  my  neck  and 
I  felt  him  swerve  in  the  saddle.  '  Miss 
Fairley,  I  will  not  let  even  you  keep  me 
an  interesting  invalid.  If  there  was  any 
fighting  left,  I  should  long  since  have 
been  ordered  to  the  front  by  the  surgeons ; 
but  now  they  wink  their  eyes  at  shirking.' 


His  Version  of  It  19 

" '  I  told  you  you  ought  not  to  go,  and 
now  I  'm  sure  of  it,'  urged  Miss  Fairley. 
'  You  '11  never  be  able  to  control  such  a 
superb  and  spirited  horse  with  only  your 
left  arm.' " 

"  Bet  that 's  a  subsequent  piece  of  em- 
broidery," whispered  the  polo  pony  to  his 
nearest  neighbor. 

"  Now,  I  have  to  confess  that  I  had 
come  out  of  the  stable  feeling  full  of 
friskiness,  and  I  had  n't  by  any  means 
worked  it  off  on  the  orderly,  much  of  a 
dance  as  I  'd  given  him.  But  the  way 
I  put  a  check-strap  on  my  spirits  and 
dropped  my  tail  and  ears  and  head  was 
a  circumstance,  I  tell  you. 

" '  There 's  not  the  slightest  cause  for 
alarm,'  my  confrere  answered  her.  'The 
old  scamp  has  an  inclination  to  lose  his 
head  in  battle,  but  he 's  steady  enough  as 
a  roadster.' 

" '  I  really  wish,  though,  that  you 
would  n't  insist  on  coming,'  persisted  Miss 
Fairley,  anxiously.  'You  know  — 

" '  Of  course,  Miss  Fairley,'  interrupted 


20  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

my  Major,  with  a  nasty  little  laugh,  '  if 
you  prefer  to  have  your  ride  a  solitude  a 
deux,  and  I  am  in  — ' 

" '  Shall  we  start  ? '  interrupted  Miss 
Fairley,  her  cheeks  very  red,  and  her  eyes 
blazing.  She  did  n't  wait  for  an  answer, 
but  touched  up  the  filly  into  a  trot,  and 
for  the  first  mile  or  two  not  a  word  would 
she  say  to  my  colleague ;  and  even  when 
he  finally  got  her  to  answer  him,  she 
showed  that  she  was  n't  going  to  forget 
that  speech. 

"  Well,  what  began  like  this  went  from 
bad  to  worse.  He  was  n't  even  aware  that 
he  had  been  shockingly  rude,  and  never 
so  much  as  apologised  for  his  speech. 
When  Miss  Fairley  did  n't  ask  him  to  ride 
with  them  the  next  day,  he  ordered  me 
saddled,  and  joined  them  on  the  road ; 
and  this  he  did  again  and  again,  though 
she  was  dreadfully  cool  to  him.  My  dear 
seemed  unable  to  behave.  He  could  n't 
be  himself.  He  was  rude  to  Mr.  Lewis, 
sulky  to  Miss  Fairley,  and  kept  a  dreadful 
rein  on  me.  That  week  was  the  only  time 


His  Version  of  It  21 

in  my  life  when  he  rode  me  steadily  on  the 
curb.  My  grief !  how  my  jaw  did  ache !  " 

"  I  wish  it  would  now,"  interrupted  the 
cob,  sulkily.  Let  it  be  said  here  that 
horses  are  remarkably  s weet-n atured  but 
this  particular  one  was  developing  a 
splint,  and  was  inevitably  cross. 

"  Don't  be  a  nag,"  requested  one  of  the 
mares. 

"  The  roan  filly  always  blamed  my 
Major  for  making  such  a  mess  of  the 
whole  thing ;  but  even  though  I  recog- 
nised how  foolish  he  was  to  kick  over 
the  traces,  I  saw  there  were  reasons 
enough  to  excuse  him.  In  the  first  place, 
he  enlisted  when  he  was  only  nineteen, 
and  having  served  straight  through,  he 

O  O  O      J 

had  had  almost  no  experience  of  women. 
Then  for  six  months  he  had  been  suffer- 
ing terribly  with  his  arm,  with  the  result 
that  what  was  left  of  his  nerves  were 
all  on  edge.  He  began  to  ride  before 
he  ought,  and  though  I  did  my  best  to  be 
easy,  I  suppose  that  every  moment  in  the 
saddle  must  have  caused  him  intense  pain. 


22  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Finally,  he  had  entered  himself  for  the 
running  only  after  Mr.  Lewis  had  turned 
the  first  mile-post  and  had  secured  the  in- 
side track.  I  really  think,  if  ever  a  man  was 
justified  in  fretting  on  the  bit  my  chum  was. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  week  Miss  Gaiety 
bade  me  good-bye.  '  I  heard  Mr.  Fairley 
say  that  we  could  now  go  back  to  Yantic  ; 
that 's  where  we  live,  you  know,'  she  told 
me.  '  It 's  been  a  long  job  getting  our 
claim  for  uniforms  and  blankets  allowed, 
but  the  controller  signed  a  warrant  yester- 
day. I  'm  really  sorry  that  we  are  to  be 
separated.  If  your  associate  had  behaved 
decently,  you  might  have  been  asked  to 
visit  us.' 

"  '  Yes,'  announced  the  big  grey ;  *  Miss 
Fairley  has  asked  the  bully  who  rides  me 
and  myself  to  spend  a  few  days  with  you 
next  week.  I  suppose  they  '11  settle  it  then.' 

"  But  the  officer  and  horse  who  com- 
manded the  battery  which  held  the  Weldon 
railroad  were  n't  going  to  be  beaten  as 
easily  as  that,  you  may  be  sure !  When 
I  took  my  rider  back  to  the  stable  that 


His  Version  of  It  23 

afternoon,  I  heard  him  say  to  the  orderly: 
'Jackson,  I'm  going  north  next  week,  and 
shall  want  Reveille  to  start  before  me. 
I  'm  in  too  much  pain  to  give  you  your 
orders  now,  but  come  round  to-morrow 
morning  and  get  your  instructions.' 

"  Yantic  was  nothing  but  a  little  village 
clustered  about  a  great  woollen-mill,  with- 
out any  stable  or  hotel  to  live  in,  so  we 
had  to  put  up  at  Norwich,  a  place  seven 
miles  away;  and  it  was  a  case  of  put  up, 
I  tell  you,  in  both  food  and  attendance ! 
For  a  decently  brought  up  horse  to  come 
down  to  a  hotel  livery-stable  is  a  trial  I 
never  want  to  go  through  again.  In  the 
field  I  never  minded  what  came,  but  I  do 
hate  musty  corn  and  damp  bedding. 

"  You  girls  would  have  laughed  to  see 
the  roan  filly's  face  the  first  time  we  met 
on  the  road. 

"  '  Horse  alive ! '  she  cried,  without  so 
much  as  a  greeting, '  you  don't  mean  to  say 
you  have  hopes  ?  Why,  Mr.  Solitaire  and 
that  horrid  Mr.  Lewis  arrive  to-day,  and 
the  thing's  probably  as  good  as  decided,' 


24  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  '  My  Major  is  very  resolute,'  said  I. 

" '  So  is  a  mule,'  snapped  Miss  Gaiety, 
'  but  we  don't  think  the  more  of  him  for 
that.1 " 

The  polo  pony  gave  a  horse  laugh  as 
he  said,  "  That  was  one  on  you." 

"  It  was,"  acknowledged  Reveille  ;  "  and 
I  regret  to  say  it  made  me  lose  my  tem- 
per to  such  an  extent  that  I  retorted,  '  I 
can't  say  much  for  the  taste  of  your 
woman ! ' 

"'No,'  assented  the  filly;  'if  what  you 
and  Mr.  Solitaire  say  is  true,  she 's  taking 
the  worse  of  the  two.  But  then,  a  human 
can't  help  it.  If  you  covered  a  horse  all 
over  with  clothes,  do  you  think  any  one 
would  know  much  about  him  ?  Moreover, 
two-thirds  of  what  men  do  or  say  is  said 
or  done  only  to  fool  a  woman.  How  can 
a  girl  help  making  mistakes,  when  she  's 
got  nothing  to  go  by  but  talk  ?  Why,  look 
at  it.  Your  Major  seems  balky  most  of 
the  time,  won't  talk  half  of  it,  and  when 
he  does,  says  the  things  he  should  n't ; 
while  Mr.  Lewis  is  always  affable,  talks 


His  Version  of  It  25 

well,  and  pays  indirect  compliments  better 
than  any  man  I  ever  met.' 

"  '  If  she  could  only  be  told ! '  I  groaned. 

" '  She  would  be,  if  I  could  talk,'  sighed 
the  mare.  '  I  'd  let  her  know  how  he  treats 
his  horses ! ' 

" '  Miss  Gaiety,'  I  ejaculated,  '  I  Ve  got 
an  idea.' 

"  '  What  ? '  she  demanded. 

" '  Wait  a  bit  till  I  Ve  had  time  to  think 
it  out,'  said  I.  '  Gettysburg  was  n't  fought 
in  five  minutes.' 

" '  Gettysburg  was  a  big  thing,'  she  an- 
swered. 

"  '  So  's  my  idea,'  I  told  her. 

"In  the  meantime  my  Major  was  ex- 
plaining to  Miss  Fairley  that  the  govern- 
ment had  sent  him  to  New  London  to 
inspect  the  ordnance  at  Forts  Trumbull 
and  Griswold,  and  that  he  found  it  pleas- 
anter  to  stay  in  Norwich,  and  run  down 
by  train  to  New  London  for  his  work. 
That 's  the  way  humans  lie  when  it  does  n't 
deceive  any  one  and  it  isn't  expected  that 
it  will.  Of  course  Miss  Fairley  knew  what 


26  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

brought  him  North,  and  why  he  preferred 
Norwich  to  New  London !  One  thing  he 
did  do,  though,  which  was  pretty  good. 
He  apologised  to  her  for  having  said  what 
he  did  before  their  first  ride,  told  her  that 
his  wound  had  been  troubling  him  so  that 
at  times  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  was 
saying,  and  declared  he  'd  been  sorry  ever 
since.  He  was  humble !  The  Eleventh 
Battery  of  Light  Artillery  would  never 
have  known  him. 

" '  There,'  sniffed  Miss  Gaiety ;  '  if  the 
idiot  had  only  talked  in  that  vein  ten  days 
ago,  he  might  have  done  something.  Oh, 
you  men,  you  men  ! ' 

"At  least  he  won  a  small  favour;  for 
when  he  asked  leave,  at  parting,  to  be  her 
companion  the  next  day  in  a  ride,  she  told 
him  he  might  join  her  and  Mr.  Lewis,  if  he 
wished.  But  the  permission  was  n't  given 
with  the  best  of  grace,  and  she  did  n't  ask 
him  to  luncheon  before  the  start. 

"  I  thought  out  my  idea  over  night,  and 
put  it  in  shape  to  tell.  My  Major  took  me 
to  the  Fairleys'  a  little  early,  and  so  went 


His  Version  of  It  27 

in,  leaving  me  alone.  In  a  minute,  how- 
ever, a  groom  brought  the  filly  and  the 
grey  round  to  the  door,  and  with  them 
came  Sagitta,  the  Russian  wolf-hound, 
whom,  it  seems,  Mr.  Lewis  had  brought 
from  Europe,  and  had  just  presented  to 
Miss  Fairley. 

"  After  the  barest  greetings,  I  unfolded 
my  scheme.  '  I  don't  know,'  said  I,  '  what 
Mr.  Sagitta  thinks,  but  we  three  are  a 
spike-team  in  agreeing  that  Mr.  Lewis 
is  a  brute.' 

" '  I  bow-wow  to  that,'  assented  the  dog. 
'  He  kicked  me  twice,  coming  up  yester- 
day, because  I  was  afraid  to  go  up  the 
steps  of  the  baggage-car.' 

'"So  far  as  we  can  see  he  is  going  to 
win  Miss  Fairley,'  I  continued.  '  As  Miss 
Gaiety  says  she  's  a  dear,  I  think  we  ought 
to  prevent  it.' 

"  *  Very  pretty,'  says  the  grey ;  '  but,  may 
I  ask,  who  is  to  interfere  and  put  the  hob- 
bles on  him  ?  ' 

" '  We  are  to  tell  her  he 's  cruel.' 

" '  She  won't  understand  us,  if  we   tell 


28  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

her  till  doomsday.  These  humans  are  so 
stupid ! '  growled  Sagitta. 

" '  That 's  where  my  idea  comes  in,'  I 
bragged  —  a  little  airily,  it  is  to  be  feared. 
'  We  can't,  of  course,  tell  it  to  her  in 
words,  but  we  can  act  it.' 

"  *  Eh  ? '  exclaimed  the  filly,  with  a  sud- 
den look  of  intelligence. 

"  '  Not  possible,'  snorted  the  big  grey. 

"  *  I  see,'  cried  the  mare,  her  woman's 
wits  grasping  the  whole  thing  in  a  flash, 
and  in  her  delight  she  kicked  up  her  hind 
legs  in  the  most  graceful  manner. 

" '  Heyday  ! '  exclaimed  the  grey,  using 
our  favourite  expletive. 

"It  did  n't  take  me  long  to  explain  to 
him  and  Sagitta,  and  they  entered  into  the 
scheme  eagerly.  We  were  so  hot  to  begin 
on  it  that  we  pawed  the  road  all  into  holes 
in  our  impatience. 

"  Presently  out  came  the  three,  and  then 
the  fun  began.  Mr.  Lewis  stepped  for- 
ward to  mount  Felicia,  and  at  once  Miss 
Gaiety  backed  away,  snorting.  Then  the 
groom  left  us,  and  tried  to  hold  her ;  but 


His  Version  of  It  29 

not  a  bit  of  it ;  every  time  Mr.  Lewis  tried 
to  approach  she  'd  get  wild. 

"Finally  my  Major  joined  in  by  walking 
over  to  help,  and  the  mare  at  once  put  her 
head  round  and  rubbed  it  against  him,  and 
stood  as  quiet  as  a  mouse.  So  he  says: 
'  I  've  only  my  left  arm,  Miss  Fairley,  but  I 
think  we  can  manage  it ; '  and  the  next 
moment  she  was  in  the  saddle. 

"  Lewis  was  pretty  angry-looking  as  he 
went  toward  his  own  horse ;  and  when  he, 
too,  began  to  back  and  snort  and  shiver, 
he  did  n't  look  any  better,  you  may  be  sure 
of  that.  You  ought  to  have  seen  it ! 
The  brute  caught  him  by  the  bridle,  and 
then  the  grey  kept  backing  away  or  dodg- 
ing from  him.  Out  on  the  lawn  they 
went,  cutting  it  up  badly,  then  into  Miss 
Fairley 's  pet  bed  of  roses,  then  smashing 
into  the  shrubberies.  I  never  saw  better 
acting.  Any  one  would  have  sworn  the 
horse  was  half  dead  with  fright. 

"  It  did  n't  take  very  much  of  this  to 
make  Lewis  lose  all  self  control. 

"  '  You  cursed  mule  ! '  he  raved,  his  fate 


30  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

white  with  passion ;  '  if  I  had  a  decent 
whip,  I  'd  cut  the  heart  out  of  you ! '  And 
suiting  the  action  to  the  thought  he  struck 
the  grey  between  the  eyes  with  his  crop 
a  succession  of  violent  blows,  until,  in  his 
fury,  he  broke  the  stick.  Then  he  clenched 
his  fist  and  struck  Solitaire  on  the  nose, 
and  would  have  done  so  a  second  time  if 
Miss  Fairley  had  n't  spoken. 

" '  Stop ! '  she  called  hotly,  and  Lewis 
dropped  his  fist  like  a  flash.  Felicia  was 
breathing  very  fast  and  her  cheeks  were 
white,  while  her  hands  trembled  almost  as 
much  as  Solitaire  had.  Her  face  wore  a 
queer  look  as  she  continued  :  '  I  — excuse 
me,  Mr.  Lewis,  but  I  could  n't  bear  to  see 
you  strike  him.  He  —  I  don't  think  he  — 
something  has  frightened  him.  Please 
give  him  just  a  moment.'  Then  she 
turned  to  my  dear,  saying,  '  Perhaps  you 
can  calm  him,  Major  Moran  ? ' 

"I  should  think  he  could!  Talk  of 
lambs  !  Well,  that  was  Solitaire  when  my 
Major  went  up  to  him.  He  let  himself  be 
led  out  of  the  flower-bed  back  to  the  road 


His  Version  of  It  31 

as  quiet  as  a  kitten.  The  moment  Lewis 
tried  to  come  near  him,  however,  back 
away  he  would,  even  from  my  confrere. 
The  groom  tried  to  help ;  but  it  takes 
more  than  three  humans  to  control  a  horse 
who  does  n't  want  to  be  controlled. 

"  After  repeated  attempts  they  got  tired 
of  trying ;  and  then  Mr.  Lewis  suggested, 
with  a  laugh  that  did  n't  sound  nice : 
*  Well.  Major,  we  must  n't  cheat  Miss 
Fairley  of  her  afternoon  ;  and  since  you 
seem  able  to  manage  my  beast,  perhaps 
you  '11  ride  him,  and  let  me  take  yours  ? ' 

"  Usually  I  should  have  been  very  much 
pained  at  my  comrade's  nodding  his  head, 
but  this  time  it  was  exactly  what  I  wanted. 
Whoop !  Ride  me  ?  Neigh,  neigh !  If 
you  ever  saw  a  coward  in  an  ague  of  a  blue 
funk,  that  is  what  I  was.  I  blessed  my 
stars  none  of  the  Eleventh  Battery  were 
round !  Lewis  tried ;  but,  do  his  best,  I 
would  n't  let  him  back  me.  When  my 
Major  interfered,  I  sidled  up  to  my  dear 
just  as  if  I  could  n't  keep  away  from  him ; 
but  when  he  attempted  to  hold  me  for 


32  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Lewis  to  mount,  I  went  round  in  a  circle, 
always  keeping  him  between  me  and  the 
brute.  It  was  oats  to  me,  you  'd  better 
believe,  to  see  the  puzzled,  worried  look 
on  Miss  Fairley's  face  as  she  watched  the 
whole  thing. 

"Well,  they  discussed  what  they  called 
' the  mystery,'  and  finally  agreed  that  they 
could  n't  ride  that  afternoon,  so  we  horses 
were  sent  down  to  the  stable,  and  the  three 
went  back  to  the  verandah.  Sagitta  told 
me  afterward  what  happened  there. 

" '  Come  here,  pup,'  calls  Lewis  to  him, 
the  moment  they  were  seated. 

"  Sagitta  backed  away  two  steps,  brist- 
ling up,  and  growling  a  bit. 

"  '  Come  here,  you  brute ! '  ordered  Lewis 
hotly,  rising. 

"  Sagitta  crouched  a  little,  drew  his  lips 
away  from  his  fangs,  and  pitched  his  growl 
'way  down  in  his  throat. 

" '  Look  out !  That  dog  means. 'mischief,' 
cried  my  Major. 

"  *  Are  the  animals  possessed  ? '  roared 
Lewis,  his  voice  as  angry  as  Sagitta's 


His  Version  of  It  33 

snarl,  yet  stepping  backwards,  for  it  looked 
as  if  the  dog  were  about  to  spring. 

"  But  my  Major  did  n't  retreat' —  not  he  ! 
He  sprang  between  the  wolf-hound  and 
Miss  Fairley.  '  Down,  sir !  '  he  ordered 
sharply  ;  and  Sagitta  dropped  his  lips  anc 
his  bristles,  and  came  right  up  to  him,  wag- 
ging his  tail,  and  trying  to  lick  his  hand. 

"  '  Is  n't  it  extraordinary  ? '  cried  Miss 
Fairley,  with  a  crease  in  her  forehead. 
'  Here,  Sagitta  ! ' 

"  '  Miss  Fairley,  be  careful ! '  pleaded  my 
Major;  but  there  was  n't  the  slightest  neces- 
sity. Sagitta  was  by  her  side  like  a  flash, 
and  was  telling  her  how  he  loved  her,  in 
every  way  that  dog  could.  And  there  he 
stayed  till  Lewis  came  forward,  when  he 
backed  away  again,  snarling. 

"  Now,  in  all  their  Washington  inter- 
course my  Major  had  been  the  surly  one ; 
but  in  the  interval  he  had  evidently  had 
time  to  realise  his  mistake,  and  to  see  that 
he  must  correct  it.  Probably,  too,  he 
was  n't  depressed  by  what  had  just  taken 
place.  Anyway,  that  afternoon  he  was  as 


34  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

pleasant  and  jolly  as  he  knew  how  to  be. 
But  Mr.  Lewis !  Well,  I  acknowledge 
he  'd  had  enough  to  make  any  man  mad, 
and  that  was  what  he  was.  Cross,  sulky, 
blurting  out  disagreeable  things  in  a  dis- 
agreeable voice,  with  a  disagreeable  face : 
he  did  make  an  exhibition  of  himself,  so 
Sagitta  said. 

"  After  as  long  a  stay  as  was  proper,  my 
Major  told  them  he  must  go,  and  I  was 
brought  round.  Miss  Fairley  came  to  the 
stoop  with  him,  and  did  n't  I  prick  up  my 
ears  when  I  heard  her  say : 

" '  Since  you  were  defrauded  of  your 
ride  to-day,  Major  Moran,  perhaps  you  will 
lunch  here  to-morrow,  and  afterward  we 
will  see  if  we  can't  be  more  successful  ? ' 

"  The  next  day  our  interference  was  done 
a  little  differently.  When  we  were  brought 
round  to  the  door,  there  was  Mr.  Lewis 
with  a  pair  of  cruelly  big  ro welled  spurs  on 
his  boots,  a  brutal  Mexican  quirt  in  his 
hand,  and  a  look  on  his  face  to  match  the 
two.  Of  course  the  grey  gave  him  a  lot 
of  trouble  in  mounting,  but  we  had  already 


His  Version  of  It  35 

planned  a  different  policy ;  and  so,  after 
enough  snorting  and  trembling  to  make 
Felicia  look  thoughtful,  he  finally  was 
allowed  to  get  on  Mr.  Solitaire's  back. 

"  Much  good  it  did  him  !  The  filly  and 
I  paired  off  just  as  if  we  were  having  a 
bridle  trip  in  double  harness ;  but  do  his 
best,  Mr.  Lewis  could  not  keep  the  grey 
abreast  of  us.  Twenty  feet  in  front,  or 
thirty  feet  behind,  that  was  where  he  was 
during  the  whole  ride,  and  Lewis  fought 
one  long  battle  trying  to  make  it  otherwise. 
He  had  had  the  reins  buckled  to  the  lower 
bar  of  the  curb,  so  it  must  have  been 
pretty  bad  for  the  grey,  but  there  was  no 
flinching  about  him. 

"  Every  now  and  then  I  could  hear  the 
blows  of  the  quirt  behind  me;  and  when, 
occasionally,  the  grey  passed  us,  I  could 
see  his  sides  gored  and  bleeding  where 
they  had  been  torn  by  the  spurs,  and 
bloody  foam  was  all  round  his  jaw,  and 
flecked  his  chest  and  flanks.  But  he  knew 
what  he  meant  to  do,  and  he  did  it  without 
any  heed  to  his  own  suffering.  There  was 


36  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

joy  when  the  filly  told  us  that  every  time 
the  swish  of  the  quirt  was  heard  she  could 
feel  her  rider  shiver  a  little ;  and  Felicia 
must  have  been  distressed  at  the  look  of 
the  horse,  for  she  cut  the  ride  short  by 
suggesting  a  return  home. 

"  Sagitta  informed  us  afterward  that  if 
Mr.  Lewis  had  been  bad  the  day  before, 
he  was  the  devil  that  afternoon  on  the  ve- 
randah, and  Miss  Fairley  treated  him  like 
one.  What  is  more,  she  vetoed  a  ride  for 
the  next  day  by  saying  that  she  thought 
it  was  getting  too  cold  to  be  pleasant. 
When  we  had  ridden  away,  Solitaire  later 
told  me,  she  excused  herself  to  Mr.  Lewis, 
and  went  to  the  stable  and  fed  the  grey  with 
sugar,  patting  him,  and  telling  the  groom 
to  put  something  on  the  spur-gashes. 

"  We  horses  did  n't  hear  anything  more 
for  three  days,  at  the  end  of  which  time 
my  pal  and  I  rode  over  one  morning,  and 
reminded  Miss  Fairley  that  she  had  prom- 
ised to  show  us  where  we  should  find  some 
fringed  gentians ;  and  though  it  was  the 
coldest  day  of  the  autumn,  Felicia  did  n't 


His  Version  of  It  37 

object,  but  ordered  Miss  Gaiety  saddled, 
and  away  we  went. 

"  We  really  had  a  very  good  time  getting 
those  gentians !  Nothing  was  ever  done 
with  the  flowers,  however,  owing  to  cir- 
cumstances which  constitute  the  most 
painful  part  of  my  confession.  For  a 
horse  and  an  officer,  I  had  been  pretty 
tricky  already,  but  that  was  nothing  to 
the  fraud  I  tried  to  perpetrate  that  morn- 
ing. After  our  riders  had  mounted  for 
the  return  to  Yantic,  I  suggested  to  Miss 
Gaiety  what  I  thought  would  be  a  winning 
race  for  my  Major,  which  was  neither  more 
nor  less  than  that  she  should  run  away,  and 
let  him  save  Miss  Fairley.  The  roan 
came  right  into  the  scheme,  and  we  ar- 
ranged just  how  it  was  to  be  managed. 
She  was  to  bolt,  and  I  was  to  catch  her ; 
but  since  my  Major  had  only  his  left  arm, 
as  soon  as  she  felt  his  hand  on  the  rein 
she  was  to  quiet  down ;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  but  it  would  have  been  a  pre- 
eminently successful  coup  if  it  had  been 
run  to  the  finish. 


38  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  What  actually  happened  was  that  the 
mare  bolted  at  a  rabbit  which  very  oppor- 
tunely came  across  the  road,  and  away  she 
went  like  a  shell  from  a  mortar.  I  did  n't 
even  wait  for  orders,  but  sprang  after  her  at 
a  pace  that  would  have  settled  it  before 
many  minutes.  Just  as  I  had  got  my 
gait,  however,  my  poor  dear  gave  a  groan, 
reeled  in  his  saddle,  and  before  I  could 
check  myself  he  pitched  from  my  back  to 
the  ground.  I  could  not  stop  my  momen- 
tum under  thirty  feet,  but  I  was  back  at 
his  side  in  a  moment,  sniffing  at  him,  and 
turning  him  over  with  my  nose,  for  his 
wounded  arm  was  twisted  under  him,  and 
his  face  was  as  white  as  paper.  That  was 
the  worst  moment  of  my  life,  for  I  thought 
I  'd  killed  him.  I  put  my  head  up  in  the 
air,  and  did  n't  I  whinny  and  neigh ! 

"  The  filly, finding  that  something  wrong 
had  happened,  concluded  to  postpone  the 
runaway,  and  came  back  to  where  I  was 
standing.  Miss  Fairley  was  off  her  like  a 
flash,  and,  kneeling  beside  my  treasure,  tried 
to  do  what  she  could  for  him,  though  that 


His  Version  of  It  39 

really  was  n't  anything.  Just  then,  by 
good  luck,  along  came  a  farmer  in  an  ox- 
cart. They  lifted  my  poor  dear  into  it, 
and  a  pretty  gloomy  procession  took  up 
its  walk  for  Yantic. 

"  When  we  arrived  at  the  Fairleys'  house, 
there  was  a  to-do,  as  you  may  imagine. 
He  was  carried  upstairs,  while  I  went  for 
the  doctor,  taking  a  groom  with  me,  be- 
cause humans  are  so  stupid  that  they  only 
understand  each  other.  I  taught  that 
groom  a  thing  or  two  about  what  a  horse 
can  do  in  the  way  of  speed  that  I  don't 
believe  he  has  ever  forgotten/' 

"Did  you  do  better  than  1.35^?"  in- 
quired the  Kentuckian ;  but  Reveille  paid 
no  heed  to  the  question. 

"  After  that  sprint  I  had  about  the 
dullest  month  of  my  life,  standing  doing 
nothing  in  the  Fairleys'  stable,  while  nearly 
dying  of  anxiety  and  regret.  The  only 
thing  of  the  slightest  interest  in  all  that 
time  occurred  the  day  after  our  attempted 
runaway,  when  Mr.  Lewis  came  down  to 
the  stable,  and  gave  orders  about  having 


40  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

the  big  grey  sent  after  him.  He  was  n't  a 
bit  in  a  sweet  temper  —  that  I  could  see ; 
and  though  I  overheard  one  of  the  grooms 
say  that  he  was  to  come  back  later,  as  soon 
as  the  nurse  and  doctors  were  out  of  the 
house,  the  big  grey  thought  otherwise,  and 
predicted  that  we  should  never  see  each 
other  again.  Our  parting  was  truly  touch- 
ing, and  put  tears  in  the  filly's  eyes. 

" '  Friends,'  said  Solitaire, '  I  don't  think 
he  will  ever  forgive  me,  and  I  suppose  I 
am  in  for  a  lot  of  brutality  from  him;  but 
I  am  not  sorry.  If  you  ever  give  me 
another  thought  please  say  to  yourself : 
"  He  did  his  best  to  save  a  woman  from 
having  her  life  made  one  long  night-mare 
by  a  cruel  master."  ' 

"  Nothing  much  happened  in  the  weeks 
my  Major  was  housed,  with  the  exception 
of  one  development  that  had  for  me  an 
extremely  informing  and  delightful  quality. 
One  day,  about  a  month  after  our  cropper, 
Felicia  came  down  to  the  stable,  and  with- 
out so  much  as  a  look  or  a  word  for  Miss 
Gaiety,  came  straight  into  my  stall,  flung 


His  Version  of  It  41 

her  arms  about  my  neck,  and  laid  her  soft 
cheek  caressingly  against  it,  for  some  mo- 
ments. Then  she  kissed  me  on  the  nose 
very  tenderly,  and  offered  me  what  I 
thought  were  some  little  white  stones.  I 
had  never  tasted  sugar  before,  and  nothing 
but  her  repeated  tempting  and  urging  per- 
suaded me  to  keep  the  lumps  in  my  mouth 
long  enough  to  get  the  taste  on  my  tongue. 
(I  have  to  confess  that  since  then  I  have 
developed  a  strong  liking  for  all  forms  of 
sweetmeats.)  What  is  more,  she  came 
down  every  day  after  that,  and  sometimes 
twice  a  day,  to  caress  and  feed  me.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  it,  that  for  some  reason 
she  had  become  extraordinarily  fond  of 
me ! 

"  It  is  awfully  hard  in  this  world  to 
know  what  will  turn  out  the  best  thing. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  tumble  off  my 
back  was  about  the  luckiest  accident  that 
ever  befell  my  Major ;  for  it  broke  open 
the  old  wound,  and  as  the  local  doctors 
did  not  have  six  hundred  other  injured  mea 
under  them,  they  could  give  it  proper 


42  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

attention,  which  the  hospital  surgeons  had 
never  been  able  to  do.  One  of  them 
extracted  all  the  pieces  of  bone,  set  the 
arm,  and  then  put  it  in  a  plaster  jacket, 
which  ought  to  have  healed  it  in  good 
shape  very  quickly.  But  for  some  reason 
it  did  n't.  In  fact,  I  became  very  much 
alarmed  over  the  length  of  my  Major's 
convalescence,  till  one  day  I  overheard  one 
of  the  stablemen  say  : 

" '  Lor' !  He  won't  get  well  no  too  fast, 
with  Miss  Felicia  to  fluff  his  pillers,  an' 
run  his  erran's,  an'  play  to  him,  an'  read 
aloud  to  him,  an'  him  got  nothin'  to  do 
but  just  lay  back  easy  an'  look  at  her.' 

"  Then  I  realised  that  it  would  be  some 
time  before  he  would  feel  strong  enough  to 
go  back  to  his  ordnance  inspecting. 

"  Finally,  one  afternoon,  the  filly  and  I 
were  saddled  and  brought  round  to  the 
front  door,  and  there  were  Miss  Fairley 
and  my  Major,  both  looking  as  well  and 
happy  as  their  best  friend  would  want  to 
see  them.  It  was  a  nice  day,  and  away  we 
vrent  over  the  New  England  hills. 


His  Version  of  It  43 

"  There  was  n't  much  surliness  or  cool- 
ness on  that  ride,  and  what  they  did  n't 
talk  about  is  hardly  worth  mentioning. 
After  they  had  fairly  cantered,  conversa- 
tionally, for  over  three  hours,  however,  they 
slowed  down,  and  finally  only  Felicia  tried 
to  talk,  and  she  did  it  so  jerkily  and  con- 
fusedly, with  such  a  deal  of  stumbling  and 
stammering,  that  presently,  try  her  best, 
she  had  to  come  to  a  halt,  too.  Then  there 
was  a  most  awkward  silence,  until  sud- 
denly my  Major  burst  out,  more  as  if  the 
sentence  were  shot  from  a  gun  than  as  if 
he  were  speaking  it : 

" '  Oh,  Felicia,  if  you  could  only — ' 
"  That  seemed  to  me  too  indefinite  a 
wish  to  answer  easily,  and  apparently  Miss 
Fairley  thought  the  same,  for  another  si- 
lence ensued  which  was  embarrassing  even 
to  me.  So  far  as  I  could  make  out,  my 
Major  could  not  speak,  and  Miss  Fairley 
would  not.  I  was  as  anxious  as  he  was  to 
know  what  she  would  say,  and  in  my  sus- 
pense I  suddenly  conceived  an  idea  that 
was  little  short  of  inspiration,  though  I 


44  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

say  it  who  ought  not.  I  asked  the  roan 
filly: 

" '  Is  your  Felicia  resting  her  weight  on 
the  side  toward  my  Major,  or  on  the  side 
away  from  him  ? ' 

"'She  has  a  very  bad  seat  in  her 
saddle,'  the  mare  told  me,  'and  she  is 
resting  all  her  weight  on  the  side  next 
you.' 

" '  Then,  Miss  Gaiety,'  I  suggested,  '  I 
think  they  will  like  it  if  we  snuggle.' 

"  '  Well,  just  for  this  once  I  will/  replied 
the  filly,  shyly." 

Reveille  turned  in  his  stall,  and,  walking 
over  to  his  manger,  picked  up  a  wisp  of 
hay.  But  the  action  was  greeted  by  an  out- 
burst from  the  ladies. 

"  Oh,  you  are  not  going  to  stop  there, 
deir  Mr.  Reveille  !"  they  chorused. 

"  I  always  did  hate  a  quitter  on  the  home 
stretch,"  chimed  in  the  discontented  cob, 
pleased  to  have  a  grievance. 

The  narrator  shook  his  head. 

"  No  gentleman,"  he  asserted,  "who  over- 
heard what  followed  would  ever  tell  of  it,- 


His  Version  of  It  45 

and  a  horse  has  an  even  higher  standard 
of  honour," 

"Ah,  darling  Mr.  Reveille,"  pleaded 
the  feminine  part  of  his  audience,  "  just  a 
little  more ! " 

"  I  hate  to  seem  mulish,"  responded  the 
horse,  "  and  so  I  will  add  one  small  incident 
that  is  too  good  not  to  be  repeated.  When 
we  rode  up  to  the  house  that  evening, 
shamefully  late  for  dinner,  my  Major  lifted 
Miss  Fairley  off  Miss  Gaiety  in  a  way  that 
suggested  that  she  might  be  very  break- 
able, and,  after  something  I  don't  choose 
to  tell  you  about,  he  said : 

"  *  I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  have  another 
such  ride ! ' 

"  '  It  does  n't  seem  possible,  Stanley,' 
whispered  my  Felicia,  very  softly.  'You 
know,  even  the  horses  seemed  to  under- 
stand ! ' " 

Just  as  Reveille  finished  thus,  a  human 
voice  was  heard,  saying  : 

"  You  will  have  the  veterinary  see  the 
cob  at  once,  and  let  me  know  if  it  is  a  case 
which  requires  more  than  blistering." 


46  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Then  came  a  second  and  very  treble 
voice.  "  Papa,"  it  begged,  "  will  oo  lif  me 
up  on  ol'  Weveille's  back  ?  "  And  the  next 
moment  a  child  of  three  was  sitting  astride 
the  old  warrior  and  clinging  to  his  mane. 

"  Well,  you  old  scoundrel,"  said  the 
human,  "  do  you  know  you  are  getting 
outrageously  fat  ?  " 

"  Weveille  is  n't  not  any  scoundwel," 
denied  the  child,  earnestly.  "  Mama  says 
Weveille  is  a'  ol'  darlin'. " 

"  Your  mama,  fortunately  for  Reveille 
and  me,  always  had  a  soft  spot  for  idiots," 
explained  the  man,  stroking  the  horse's 
nose  affectionately.  "  But  I  will  say  this 
for  the  old  fellow :  if  most  folly  resulted 
as  well  as  his,  there  would  be  a  big  pre- 
mium on  fools.'* 

Reveille  winked  his  off  eye  at  the  other 
steeds. 

"  Are  n't  these  humans  comical  ?  "  he 
laughed. 


A  WARNING  TO   LOVERS 


A   WARNING  TO   LOVERS 


BEFORE  some  blazing  logs,  which  fill 
a  deep  fireplace  with  warmth  that 
overflows  to  just  the  right  extent  into  the 
room,  stands,  slightly  skewed,  a  sofa.  The 
sofa  is  a  comfortable  one.  It  is  short,  deep, 
and  low;  and  the  arms  have  a  suggestion 
of  longing  to  be  filled  that  is  truly  seductive. 
In  addition,  two  down  cushions  imply  that 
the  sofa  is  quite  prepared  to  fit  itself  to 
any  figure,  be  it  long,  short,  broad,  or 
narrow.  Altogether,  it  is  a  most  satisfac- 
tory sofa. 

But  the  satisfactoriness  does  not  end 
here.  Seated  at  one  end  of  that  sofa  is  a 
girl,  clearly  in  that  neither  grass  nor  hay 
period,  which  begins  at  sixteen  and  ends 
at  eighteen.  Not  that  it  is  intended  to  sug- 
gest that  because  the  girl  is  neither  hay 
nor  grass  she  is  unattractive.  Quite  the 


50  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

reverse.  New-mown  hay  is  the  sweetest, 
and  the  girl,  if  neither  child  nor  woman, 
is,  in  her  way,  just  as  sweet. 

In  algebra,  when  a,  b,  and  c  are  com- 
puted, it  is  possible  to  find  the  unknown 
quantity  x.  Applying  an  algebraic  for- 
mula to  the  above,  we  at  once  deduce 
what  is  necessary  to  complete  the  factors. 
It  may  be  stated  thus  :  a,  a  sofa,  plus  b,  a 
charming  girl ;  and  as  a,  a  sofa,  must  be 
divided  by  two,  we  find  the  unknown 
quantity  to  be  x,  a  man,  and  the  product 
of  our  a,  6,  and  x  to  equal  xxx,  or  triple 
bliss.  Nor  is  this  wrong.  The  sofa  does 
not  do  more  than  seat  two  people  com- 
fortably, yet  at  the  present  moment  there 
are  little  spaces  at  both  ends.  Concern- 
ing the  other  details  of  this  a  -r-  2  +  b  -f  x—  o 
(i.  e.  Mrs.  Grundy),  it  seems  needless  to 
enlarge. 

"  And  is  n't  it  wonderful,  Freddy,  that 
you  should  love  me  and  I  should  love 
you  ?  "  cooed  the  girl. 

"  Just  out  of  sight,"  replied  Freddy. 

Most  people  would  agree  with  the  above 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  5 1 

remarks,  though  the  circumstance  of  a 
man  and  woman  occasionally  loving  each 
other  is  a  phenomenon  recognised,  if  not 
approved,  by  science.  But  though  these 
two  did  not  know  it,  there  was  a  wonder 
here.  Freddy  has  been  spoken  of  in  the 
masculine  gender,  because,  as  Shakespeare 
wrote :  "  The  Lord  made  him,  therefore 
let  him  pass  for  a  man."  Otherwise  his 
manliness  was  open  to  debate.  Lovable 
the  girl  unquestionably  was,  or  at  least 
very  fast  verging  upon  it,  but  it  passeth 
human  intelligence  how  Freddy  could  in- 
spire any  sort  of  feeling  except  an  intense 
longing  for  a  gun  loaded  with  goose-shot. 

"  And  that  we  should  have  loved  each 
other  for  so  long,  and  never  either  of  us 
dreamed  that  we  cared  one  little  bit  for 
each  other,"  continued  the  girl. 

Freddy  did  not  assent  to  this  sentiment 
as  readily  as  to  the  former.  Freddy  had 
been  quite  sure  that  Frances  had  been 
pining  for  his  love  in  secret  for  some 
months.  So  he  only  remarked :  "  We  got 
there  all  the  same." 


52  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"Yes,"  assented  Frances.  "And  we'll 
love  each  other  always,  now." 

"  But  I  say,"  inquired  Freddy,  "  what  do 
you  think  your  father  and  mother  will 
say  ? " 

"Why,  they'll  be  delighted,"  cried  the 
girl.  "  It  couldn't  be  better.  Cousins, — 
and  just  the  same  r.ge  —  and,  and  —  Oh, 
lots  of  other  reasons,  I  'm  sure,  but  I  can't 
think  of  them  now." 

"  Let 's  tell  them  together,"  suggested 
Freddy,  courageously. 

"Freddy!  Of  course  not.  That  isn't 
the  right  way.  No,  you  must  request  an 
interview  with  papa  in  his  library,  and 
plead  eloquently  with  him." 

"  I  suppose  I  must,"  answered  Freddy, 
with  a  noticeable  limpness  in  his  voice  and 
vertebrae. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  fun  if  he  should  refuse 
his  consent !  "  exclaimed  the  girl. 

Freddy  did  not  recognise  the  comical 
quality.  "  I  don't  see  it,"  he  moaned. 

"  Why,  it  would  be  so  romantic !  He 
would  of  course  order  you  to  leave  the 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  53 

house,  and  never,  never  darken  his  doors 
again.  That 's  what  the  father  always 
does." 

"  You  think  that 's  fun  ?  " 

:'  Such  fun  !  Then,  of  course,  we  should 
have  to  arrange  for  romantic  meetings, 
and  secret  interviews,  and  you  would  write 
little  letters  and  put  them  in  a  prayer-book 
in  our  pew;  and  watch  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  me  as  I  go  in  and  out  of  places ;  and 
stand  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
each  night,  till  you  saw  the  light  in  my 
room  put  out.  Oh !  What  fun  it  will  be !  " 

"It  might  be  raining,"  complained 
Freddy. 

"All  the  better.  That  would  prove 
your  devotion.  Don't  you  love  me 
enough  to  do  that  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Freddy,  meekly,  "  but  I  hate 
getting  wet.  Sometimes  one  catches  a 
nasty  cold." 

"  Any  one  who  tells  a  girl  he  loves 
her  with  a  fervour  and  passion  never  yet 
equalled  by  man  should  not  think  of  such 
things,"  asserted  Frances,  disapprovingly. 


54  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Freddy  had  an  idea  that  a  girl  who  re- 
ciprocated such  a  passion  should  not  seem 
so  happy  over  the  prospect  of  her  lover 
undergoing  the  exposure,  but  the  youth 
did  not  know  how  to  express  it.  So  he 
proposed :  "  Let 's  keep  it  a  secret  for  the 
present." 

"  Let  *s,"  assented  Frances.  "  We  won't 
tell  any  one  for  a  long  time,  but  just 
have  it  all  to  ourselves.  And  when  I 
am  riding  in  the  morning  you  must  join 
me ;  the  groom  will  think  it 's  all  right. 
And  whenever  papa  and  mama  are  to  be 
out  in  the  evening,  I  '11  put  a  lamp  in  my 
window,  and  —  " 

Ting! 

It  seemed  as  if  some  of  the  electric  cur- 
rent which  made  that  distant  muffled  ring 
had  switched  and  passed  through  the 
happy  pair.  Both  started  guiltily,  and 
then  both  listened  with  the  greatest  in- 
tentness;  so  intensely,  that  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause  they  could  hear  the  soft 
gliding  sound  of  the  footman's  list  slip- 
pers as  they  travelled  down  the  hallway ; 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  55 

could  hear  the  click  of  the  lock  as  he 
opened  the  frontdoor;  could  hear  the  mur- 
mur of  voices ;  could  hear  the  door  closed. 
Then,  after  a  moment's  silence,  a  voice,  for 
the  first  time  articulate  to  them,  said : 
"  I  '11  wait  in  the  morning-room." 

•'  Freddy,"  gasped  the  girl,  "  it 's  that 
horrid  Mr.  Potter.  Quick  !  " 

Both  had  arisen  from  the  sofa,  and 
Freddy  looked  about  in  a  very  badly  per- 
plexed condition.  He  was  quite  willing, 
but  about  what  was  he  to  be  quick  ? 

"  Sit  down  in  that  chair,"  whispered 
the  girl,  pointing  to  one  at  a  more  than 
proper  distance,  and  Freddy  sprinted  for 
it,  and  sat  down.  The  girl  resumed  her 
seat  on  the  little  sofa,  and  putting  her 
hands  in  a  demure  position,  rather  contra- 
dictory to  her  quick  breathing  and  flushed 
cheeks,  began :  "  As  you  were  saying, 
the  De  Reszke  brothers  were  the  only 
redeeming  —  Oh  !  Good  evening,  Mr. 
Potter."  ' 

"  Good  evening,  Frances,"  responded  a 
tall,  rather  slender,  strong-featured  man, 


56  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

attired  in  evening  dress,  who  had  leisurely 
strolled  into  the  room,  and  who  did  not 
offer  to  go  through  the  form  of  shaking 
hands.  "  Talking  to  the  fire  ?  " 

"  No.  Freddy  and  I  were  chatting 
about  the  opera." 

Mr.  Potter  put  on  his  glasses  and  lan- 
guidly surveyed  the  region  of  the  fireplace. 
Then  he  turned  and  extended  his  inves- 
tigation, till  his  eyes  settled  on  Freddy, 
stuck  away  in  the  dim  distance. 

"  Oh,  are  you  there,  youngster  ?  "  he 
remarked,  in  a  tone  of  voice  implying 
that  the  question  carried  no  interest  with 
it.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Is  n't  it 
rather  late  for  you  two  ? " 

"  It 's  only  quarter  past  ten,"  answered 
Frances,  bristling  indignantly.  "  And  if  it 
^ere  twelve  it  would  n't  make  any  differ- 
ence.** To  herself  she  said,  "  How  I  hate 
that  man!  Just  because  he's  thirty-four, 
he  always  treats  us  as  if  we  were  children ; 
and  the  way  he  tramples  on  poor,  dear 
Freddy  is  outrageous !  " 

"  You  don't  seem  to  be  very  sociably 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  57 

inclined,"  said  Mr.  Potter.  "  From  the 
distance  between  you  I  should  think  you 
two  chicks  had  been  quarrelling.  Come, 
make  it  up." 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  Frances,  indignantly. 
"  I  never  lose  my  temper;  except  when 
you  are  here." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  have  n't  asked 
me  to  sit  down  ?  "  asked  Potter,  smiling. 

"  Of  course  you  are  to  sit  down,  if  you 
want,"  exclaimed  Frances.  "  Here."  And 
she  moved  the  four  inches  towards  her  end 
of  the  sofa  that  had  not  been  occupied 
under  the  previous  arrangement. 

Mr.  Potter  seated  himself  leisurely  in 
Freddy's  old  place,  and  arranged  one  of 
the  cushions  to  fit  the  small  of  his  back. 
"  I  came  to  say  good-bye  to  your  mother," 
he  explained,  "  and  as  I  'm  too  busy  to 
stop  in  to-morrow,  I  decided  to  wait.  You 
youngsters  need  n't  think  it  necessary  to 
sit  up  to  entertain  me.  Won't  Freddy's 
mother  be  sending  his  nurse  for  him  if  he 
stays  much  later  ?  " 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  are  going  to  Europe," 


58  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

remarked  Frances.  "  I  hope  you  '11  stay  a 
long  while." 

Mr.  Potter  put  his  glasses  on  again  and 
looked  at  Frances  calmly.  "  Hello ! "  he 
said  mentally,  "  the  kitten  's  learning  how 
to  hiss."  Aloud  he  announced :  "  I  shall 
only  be  gone  for  a  month  or  two,  —  just 
the  voyage  and  a  change." 

"  What  a  pity  I "  responded  Frances, 
bitingly. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  miss  me,"  replied  Mr. 
Potter,  genially. 

Frances  gave  an  uneasy  movement  on 
the  sofa,  a  cross  between  an  angry  shake 
of  the  shoulders  and  a  bounce. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  questioned 
Freddy  at  this  point,  feeling  that  as  a 
grown  man  he  must  bear  his  part  of  the 
chat. 

"  Look  here,  littleun,"  said  Mr.  Potter, 
"if  you  expect  me  to  talk  to  you  back 
there,  you  —  "  At  this  point  he  suddenly 
ceased  speaking,  as  if  something  more 
interesting  than  his  unfinished  remark  had 
occurred  to  him. 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  59 

"  Freddy  found  it  too  warm  by  the  fire," 
explained  Frances  hastily,  guilty  at  heart, 
if  to  outward  appearance  brazen.  But 
Mr.  Potter  did  not  hear  what  she  said, 
and  sat  looking  into  the  fire  with  a  sud- 
denly serious  look,  which  nevertheless  had 
a  laugh  not  very  far  underneath. 

After  quite  a  pause,  Frances  said: 
"  How  entertaining  you  are  !  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  Mr.  Potter,  coming 
back  from  his  thoughts ;  "  I  always  enjoy 
myself,  and  I  find  that  other  people  do 
the  same."  Then  he  again  relapsed  into 
meditation. 

"  Is  n't  he  just  as  horrid  as  can  be  ? " 
raged  Frances,  inwardly.  "  He  believes 
just  because  some  women  think  him  clever, 
and  because  men  like  him,  and  because  he  's 
a  good  business  man,  and  because  mama  's 
always  praising  him  to  his  face,  as  she  would 
any  one  who  was  papa's  partner,  that  he  is 
perfect.  And  no  matter  how  you  try  to 
snub  him,  he  is  so  conceited  that  he  won't 
see  it.  Horrid  old  thing ! "  Aloud  she 
asked,  "  What  are  you  thinking  about?  " 


60  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Mr.  Potter  laughed.     "  That 's  a  great 

secret,"  he  asserted. 

* 
*  * 

An  hour  later,  Mr.  Potter  was  seated  in 
i  library,  smoking,  with  a  glass  of  seltzer  — 
and  something  else  —  at  his  elbow.  Op- 
posite to  him  sat  a  man  of  perhaps  twice 
his  years,  equally  equipped  with  a  cigar 
and  seltzer  —  and  something  else. 

"  Well,"  remarked  the  senior,  "  I  think 
if  we  can  get  the  whole  issue  at  82^  and 
place  them  at  87  and  accrued  interest,  we 
had  better  do  it.' 

"That's  settled  then,"  agreed  Mr. 
Potter.  "  Now,  is  there  anything  else  ?  I 
don't  want  to  have  cablegrams  following 
me,  since  I  'm  going  for  a  rest." 

"  No,"  replied  the  other.  "  I  know  I 
shall  want  my  partners  advice  often 
enough,  but  I'll  get  on  without  you.  Take 
a  rest.  You  can  afford  it.  There 's  noth- 
ing else." 

"  Then  if  you  are  through  with  business, 
I  want  to  speak  to  you  of  Frances,"  said 
Mr.  Potter. 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  61 

Mr.  De  Witt  turned  and  looked  at  Mr. 
Potter  quickly.  "What  about?" 

"  Do  you  know  that  that  girl 's  grown 
up,  and  we  none  of  us  have  realised  it  ? " 

"Well?" 

"  And  do  you  know  that  she  has  seen 
next  to  no  people,  —  that  her  morning  ride, 
her  studies,  and  her  afternoon  drive  with  her 
mother  are  the  only  events  of  her  day  ? " 

"Well?" 

"  And  that  her  summers,  off  in  that 
solitary  country  house  of  yours,  with  never 
a  bit  of  company  but  Freddy  De  Witt  and 
myself,  are  horribly  dull  and  monotonous  ? " 

"  Well  ? " 

"  And  that  to  kill  time  she  reads  a  great 
many  more  novels  than  is  good  for  any 
one?" 

"  Come,  come,  Champney,  what  are  you 
driving  at?  " 

"  One  more  question.  Mrs.  De  Witt  and 
you  are  dining  out  almost  nightly.  What 
do  you  suppose  Frances  does  evenings  ? " 

"  Does  ?  Plays  a  bit,  and  reads  a  bit, 
and  goes  to  bed  like  a  good  child." 


62  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  But  I  tell  you  she  is  n't  a  child  any 
longer,  so  you  can't  expect  her  to  behave 
like  one.  It  dawned  upon  me  this  even- 
ing, and  the  quicker  it  dawns  upon  you 
the  better." 

"Why?" 

"Do  you  want  her  to  make  a  fool  of 
herself  over  Freddy  ?  " 

"Freddy!" 

"  Yes,  Freddy." 

"  Ridiculous  !     Impossible ! " 

"  Because  they  are  a  long  way  towards 
it,  and  if  you  want  to  end  it,  you  '11  have 
to  use  drastic  measures." 

a  Her  own  cousin,  and  only  eighteen ! 
I  never  heard  of  such  folly." 

"  But  I  tell  you  those  two  think  they 
are  in  love  with  each  other,  and  if  you 
don't  do  something,  they  11  really  become 
so  before  long.  Thinking  a  thing  is  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  to  doing  it,  as  is  shown 
by  the  mind  cure." 

"  I  '11  put  an  end  to  it  at  once,"  growled 
Mr.  De  Witt.  "  Never  heard  of  such  non- 
sense." 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  63 

"  And  how  will  you  end  it  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Potter,  smiling  a  little. 

"  End  it  ?  Tell  them  to  stop  their  fool- 
ishness. Send  him  about  his  business." 

"  I  thought  that  would  probably  be  your 
way.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better 
to  get  an  injunction  from  the  courts  ? " 

"What  good  would  an  injunction  do?" 
asked  Mr.  De  Witt,  crossly. 

"Just  as  much  good  as  your  method. 
You  can  no  more  stop  boys'  and  girls' 
love  by  calling  it  foolishness  than  the 
courts  can.  If  you  do  as  you  propose, 
you  11  probably  have  a  run-away  match, 
or  some  other  awful  bit  of  folly." 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  The  best  thing  is  to  pack  your  trunks 
and  travel  a  bit.  That  will  give  her  some- 
thing else  to  think  about,  and  she'll  for- 
get all  about  the  little  chap." 

"  But  I  can't  leave  the  business." 

"  The  business  will  run  itself.  Or,  if  it 
won't,  what 's  a  year's  profits  compared  to 
your  only  daughter's  life  happiness  ?  " 

11  But  the  bonds  ?  " 


64  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  Don't  bid  on  them." 

"  I  can't  go.  I  can't  leave  my  business. 
Why,  I  have  n't  been  away  from  it  for 
more  than  a  week  in  forty  years." 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  going  now." 

"  I  have  it.  Her  mother  and  she  shall 
sail  with  you." 

"  Oh,  get  out ! "  ejaculated  Champney, 
"  I  'm  going  for  a  rest."  Mr.  Potter  had 
been  the  slave  for  many  years  of  two  sel- 
fish sisters  and  a  whining  mother,  —  a 
mother  who  loved  to  whine, — and  woman- 
kind meant  to  him  an  absolute  and  entire 
nuisance. 

"  That 's  it,"  said  the  senior  partner,  re- 
gardless of  this  protest.  "  You  arrange  to 
stay  for  six  months  instead  of  two.  I  '11 
do  your  work  gladly." 

"  I  can't,"  groaned  Potter. 

"  Come,  Champney,"  wheedled  the  elder, 
"  you  say  yourself  that  my  little  girl's  life 
happiness  depends  on  her  going.  For  my 
sake  I  Come !  I  did  a  good  turn  for  you 
—  or  at  least  you  've  always  said  I  did  —  in 
the  partnership.  Now  do  one  for  me." 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  65 

Potter  sighed.  He  was  used  to  being 
martyrised  where  women  were  concerned 
and  had  not  learned  how  to  resist.  "  Well, 
if  you  say  so.  But  I  '11  have  to  leave  them 
there.  Two  months  is  my  limit." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  senior,  glee- 
fully. 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  Potter,  "  perhaps 
they  won't  be  able  to  pack  in  time."  And 
the  idea  seemed  to  please  him. 

For  half  an  hour  longer  they  chatted, 
and  then  Potter  rose. 

"  Tell  me,  Champney,"  inquired  the 
senior,  "how  did  you  find  out  about 
it?" 

"  Oh,"  laughed  Champney,  "  that 's  tell- 
ing." 

# 

*  * 

The  next  day  there  was  woe  in  Israel. 
Mr.  De  Witt  was  cross  over  the  "  chil- 
dren's folly,"  as  he  called  it.  Mrs.  De 
Witt  was  deeply  insulted  at  such  sudden 
and  peremptory  marching  orders.  "  Men 
are  so  thoughtless,"  she  groaned ;  "as  if  one 
could  be  ready  to  go  on  a  day's  notice ! " 
s 


66  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Champney  was  blue  over  the  spoiling  of 
his  trip.  Freddy,  when  he  heard  the  news, 
was  the  picture  of  helplessness  and  misery, 
and  only  added  to  the  friction  by  coming 
round  and  getting  in  everybody's  way,  in 
the  rush  of  the  packing.  As  for  Frances, 
she  dropped  many  a  secret  tear  into  the 
trunks  as  her  belongings  were  bestowed 
therein.  Never,  it  seemed  to  her,  had  true 
love  been  so  crossed. 

"  I  know  Mr.  Potter  is  at  the  bottom  of 
it."  (Frances  was  not  alluding  to  the 
trunk  before  which  she  knelt)  "  He 's 
always  doing  mean  things,  yet  he  never 
will  acknowledge  them.  He  won't  even 

c? 

pay  me  the  respect  of  denying  them." 
Frances  slapped  a  shawl  she  was  packing, 
viciously.  "  To  think  of  having  to  travel 
with  him !  He  won't  even  look  at  me. 
No.  He  does  n't  even  pay  me  the  com- 
pliment of  looking  at  me.  I  don't  believe 
he  's  even  noticed  my  eyes  and  eyelashes." 
Frances  gazed  into  a  hand-glass  she  was^ 
about  to  place  in  the  trunk,  and  seemed 
less  cross  for  a  moment  after  the  scrutiny. 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  67 

"  He 's  just  as  snubby  as  he  can  be.  I 
hate  snubby  people,  and  I  '11  be  just  as 
snubby  to  him  as  I  know  how.  I  '11  —  " 

"  Good  afternoon,  Frances,"  interrupted 
a  voice,  which  made  that  young  lady  nearly 
jump  into  the  trunk  she  was  bending  over. 
"  I  came  up  to  see  if  I  could  do  anything 
for  you  or  your  mother,  and  she  sent  me 
in  to  ask  you." 

Frances  was  rather  flushed,  but  that 
may  have  been  due  to  the  stooping  posi- 
tion. "  I  don't  think  of  anything,"  she 
answered. 

"  I  Ve  had  some  chairs  sent  on  board, 
and  laid  in  novels  and  smoked  glasses  and 
puzzles  ;  and  oysters,  and  game,  and  fruit, 
and  butter,"  said  Champney,  with  a  sug- 
gestion of  weariness,  "  and  I  don't  think  of 
anything  else.  If  you  can  suggest  some- 
thing more,  I  '11  get  it." 

"  I  don't  know  —  Yes.  You  might 
change  your  mind  and  let  us  stay  at 
home,"  snapped  Frances. 

"  Don't  blame  me  for  that,"  laughed 
Champney."  That 's  your  father's  doings." 


68  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  I  know  you  were  at  the  bottom  of  it," 
charged  Frances. 

"  My  dear  child  — "  began  Champney. 

"  I  'm  not  your  child,  and  I  'm  not  a 
child,  and  I  won't  be  deared  by  you,"  cried 
Frances. 

"  Madame  Antiquity ,"  responded  Champ- 
ney, bowing,  "  I  assure  you,  that  far  from 
wishing  to  force  you  to  go  on  this  trip  with 
me,  I  only  agreed  to  take  you,  at  your 
father's  request,  and  at  a  great  personal 
sacrifice  to  myself." 

Frances  turned,  and  banged  down  the 
lid  of  her  trunk.  Then  she  banged  it 
again,  to  get  the  hasp  to  fit.  Then  she 
picked  up  a  pair  of  discarded  boots  and 
threw  them  across  the  room,  hitting 
Freddy,  who  entered  at  that  moment. 

"  Why,  sweetness  !  "  gasped  Freddy, 
who  did  not  see  Champney. 

"  Oh,  go  away,"  cried  Frances,  blushing. 
"  Don't  bother  me !  Can't  you  see  I  'm 
too  busy  to  waste  time  now  ?  " 

And  to  illustrate  the  callousness  of  man 
to  true  love,  it  is  regrettable  to  state  that 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  69 

Champney  slipped  out  of  the  door  at  this 
point,  with  an  expression  of  great  muscular 
tension  about  his  mouth,  and  no  sooner 
was  he  in  the  hall  than  the  brute  reeled 
up  against  the  wall  and,  leaning  there, 
laughed  to  a  sinful  degree. 

Then  he  walked  to  the  end  of  the  hall, 
and  entering  a  room,  also  cluttered  with 
trunks,  he  sat  upon  one  of  them  and  re- 
told the  scene  to  the  woman  packing.  "  I 
never  saw  anything  so  delicious  in  its  way," 
he  laughed.  "  I  really  believe  the  medi- 
cine 's  begun  to  work  already.  But  do  you 
know,  Frances  promises  to  be  a  tremendous 
beauty.  Just  now,  when  her  cheeks  and 
eyes  were  blazing  so,  she  was  simply  glori- 
ous to  look  at."  Which  shows  that  Champ- 
ney's  cool,  disregarding  manner  was  not 
more  than  skin  deep,  and  that  unlimited 
possibilities  lay  underneath.  Perhaps,  too, 
another  potion  was  beginning  to  work. 

"  I  'm  sorry  she  is  so  childish  with  you, 
Champney,"  said  Mrs.  De  Witt. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that.  I 
really  don't  mind  it ;  indeed,  I  am  afraid  I 


70  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

rather  enjoy  it.  It 's  much  rougher  on  her 
than  on  me,  for  she  really  feels  it,  and  it 's 
the  person  who  loses  his  or  her  temper 
who  suffers  the  most." 

"  I  hope  the  dear  child  will  try  to  be 
more  amiable,  for  naturally  she  's  sweetness 
itself,  and  it 's  bad  enough  to  be  saddled 
with  us  without  making  your  trip  worse 
than  need  be.  It 's  so  good  of  you  to  take 
us!" 

"  Dear  lady,"  answered  Champney,  ten- 
derly, "  it 's  nothing  but  a  little  set-off 
against  your  years  of  goodness  to  me. 
You  have  really  given  me  a  second  home  ; 
nothing  lean  ever  do  will  make  me  other 
than  your  debtor." 

"  It 's  nice  to  hear  you  say  so,  Champ- 
ney," said  Mrs.  De  Witt,  affectionately. 
"  I  have  always  felt  as  if  you  were  a  son 
of  mine." 

"  Then  don't  talk  to  me  about  my  good- 
ness in  taking  you." 

"  But  it  is  good  of  you." 

"  I  don't  think  Freddy  and  Frances 
think  so." 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  71 

"  Oh,  Champney !  Tell  me,  how  did 
you  find  out  their  foolishness  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  secret,"  chuckled  Champney, 

"  that  goes  with  me  to  the  grave." 

* 
*  * 

Nor  was  it  any  better  for  Cupid  the 
next  day  at  the  steamer.  The  evil  genius 
of  the  little  god,  in  the  shape  of  Potter,  per- 
sisted in  following  Frances  about,  and  not 
a  moment  did  she  or  Freddy  find  to  swear 
constancy  or  anything  else  to  each  other. 
Only  a  hand  squeeze,  while  the  whistle  was 
blowing  "  all  ashore,"  did  they  get  to  feed 
their  hearts  upon  during  the  separation. 

Freddy  went  home,  and,  going  to  his 
room,  flung  himself  on  his  bed,  and  moaned, 
and  bit  the  pillow,  and  felt  he  was  feeling 
great  thoughts,  and  thought  he  was  having 
great  feelings. 

And  the  little  lady? 

"  No,"  she  declared,  "  I  don't  want  to 
walk  with  you ;  I  don't  want  a  steamer 
chair  ;  I  don't  want  anything  ;  I  only  want 
to  be  left  al-o-o-o-o-ne,"  and  —  running  to 
her  stateroom,  she  flung  herself  upon  the 


72  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

lounge  and  wept  over  her  imhappiness. 
"  Oh,  Freddy,  Freddy,"  she  sobbed,  "  only 
be  true  to  me,  that 's  all  I  ask." 

But,  alas,  how  is  humanity  constituted ! 
The  next  morning,  Freddy,  after  a  final 
look  at  himself  in  a  tall  mirror,  remarked 
to  the  vision :  "  Yes,  that 's  very  tony. 
Now,  I  '11  take  a  walk  on  the  Avenue, 
so  as  to  give  the  girls  a  treat."  As  for 
Frances,  after  an  hour's  rapid  walk  with 
Champney  in  the  crisp,  sunny  air,  she 
came  down  to  the  breakfast-table,  and  said : 
"  Yes,  steward,  I  '11  begin  with  fruit  and  oat- 
meal, and  then  I  '11  have  chocolate,  and  beef- 
steak, and  an  omelette,  and  fried  potatoes, 
and  hot  rolls,  and  marmalade.  Oh !  And, 
steward,  do  you  have  griddle  cakes  ?  " 

Thus,  despite  their  mutual  intentions, 
the  thought  of  each  other  lessened  daily, 
till  even  the  inevitable  correspondence  lost 
interest  and  flagged.  Frances  discovered 
that  London,  Paris,  and  the  Riviera  offered 
greater  attractions  than  Freddy's  witless 
and  vapid  "  chronicle  of  small  beer ; "  while 
Freddy  found  that  listening  to  the  conver- 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  73 

sation  of  a  girl,  present,  was  a  far  better 
way  of  spending  time  than  reading  the 
letters  of  a  girl,  absent.  Finally,  Frances 
found  a  letter  at  the  bankers  at  Berne 
which  ended  the  correspondence,  —  a  let- 
ter over  which  she  laughed  so  heartily 
that  Champney  looked  up  from  his  own 
bundle  of  mail  and  asked,  "  What  is  it 
that 's  so  funny  ?  " 

"  Freddy  's  engaged  to  Kitty  Maxwell," 
replied  Frances. 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  be  so  glee- 
ful at  other  people's  misfortunes,"  reproved 
Champney,  laughing  himself,  however, 
while  speaking,  as  if  he,  too,  saw  some- 
thing humourous  in  the  announcement. 

"I  —  I  was  n't  —  I  was  laughing  at  some- 
thing else,"  Frances  told  him. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Champney. 

"  A  secret,"  replied  Frances,  blushing  a 
little,  even  while  laughing. 

"  Not  from  me  ?  "  urged  Champney. 

"Yes;  I  sha'n't  even  tell  you.  Not  a 
person  in  the  world  will  ever  know  it,  and 
I  'm  very  glad,"  asserted  Frances. 


74  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  I  suspect  I  know  it  already,"  suggested 
Champney.  "  I  am  a  great  hand  at  finding 
out  secrets.  I  have  a  patent  method." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Frances. 

"  That,  too,  is  a  secret,"  laughed 
Champney. 

When  next  we  meet  any  of  our  charac- 
ters, they  —  or  at  least  two  of  them  —  are 
toiling  up  a  steep  mountain  path  in  the 
Bavarian  Tyrol.  Frances  leads,  for  the 
way  is  narrow,  and  Champney  follows. 
Conversation  is  at  a  marked  discount;  but 
whether  this  is  due  to  the  natural  in- 
compatibility of  the  two,  or  merely  to  the 
exertion  of  the  climb,  is  unknown  to 
history. 

"  She  gets  lovelier  every  day,"  finally 
remarked  Champney. 

Frances  stopped,  and  turned.  "  What 
did  you  say  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  did  n't  speak,"  answered  Champney. 

"  I  'm  sure  you  did,"  said  Frances. 

"  No,"  denied  Champney,  "  I  was  merely 
thinking." 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  75 

"  You  did  say  something,  I  'm  sure,"  re- 
sj-onded  Frances,  turning,  and  resuming 
the  climb. 

Another  five  minutes  brought  them  to 
the  top  of  a  little  plateau  set  in  between 
two  ranges  of  mountains,  and  dividing  two 
lakes,  famous  the  world  over.  Even  after 
the  couple  reached  their  destination,  how- 
ever, they  stood  silent  for  a  minute.  Then 
Frances  exclaimed,  — 

"  Is  n't  it  glorious  ? " 

"  Lovely,"  assented  Champney,  em- 
phatically, but  staring  all  the  time  at 
Frances,  making  it  doubtful  of  what  he 
was  speaking. 

Frances,  being  quite  conscious  of  this 
gaze,  looked  all  the  harder  at  the  view. 
"The  mountains  shut  in  so  grandly!"  she 
remarked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Such  perfect  solitude !  "  said  Champ- 
ney, enthusiastically. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Frances,  with  apparent 
reluctance  in  admitting  the  fact.  "  But  I 
suppose  we  must  be  going  down  again ; 
mama  will  be  lonely." 


76  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Champney  calmly  seated  himself  on  a 
stone,  unstrung  his  field-glass,  and  sur- 
veyed through  it  the  edge  of  the  lake,  far 
below  them.  "  Your  mother,"  he  an- 
nounced, "  is  sitting  on  the  rug,  just  where 
we  left  her.  Her  back  is  against  the  tree, 
and  she  is  pretending  to  read.  But  she 's 
doing  nothing  of  the  kind.  She  is  taking 
a  nap  on  the  sly.  Surely  you  don't  want 
to  disturb  her? " 

"  It  must  be  nearly  luncheon  time." 

"  The  boatmen  have  n't  even  begun  to 
unpack  yet.  Johann  is  just  taking  the 
Vbslauer  out  of  the  boat,  to  cool  it  in 
the  lake.  They  won't  be  ready  for  half 
an  hour." 

Frances  began  to  look  a  little  worried. 
There  was  a  dangerous  persistence  in  this 
evident  desire  to  remain  on  the  alp.  "  I 
think  I  '11  go  down,  anyway,"  she  said. 

"  You  must  n't  do  that,"  begged  Champ- 
ney, laying  the  field-glass  on  the  rock. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  Frances. 

"  Because  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you,"  said  Champney. 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  77 

Silence  and  apparent  interest  in  the  view 
on  the  part  of  Frances. 

"  Do  you  know,"  asked  Champney, 
"  that  I  planned  to  be  away  for  only  two 
months  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  that  I  have  been  over  here  more 
than  eight  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  so  long  as  that,"  denied 
Frances. 

"  Eight  months  and  four  days." 

"  How  quickly  the  time  has  gone ! " 

"  But  it  has  gone,  and  that 's  the  trouble. 
I  have  decided  that  I  must  go  back  in 
September." 

Frances  hesitated,  and  then  said  bravely, 
"  We  shall  be  very  sorry  to  have  you  go." 

"  That  makes  it  all  the  harder,"  groaned 
Champney,  rising  and  joining  Frances. 
"In  fact,  I  hate  so  to  leave  you  "("you" 
can  be  plural  or  singular)  "  over  here  that 
—  that  I  want  you  to  go  back  with  me. 
Will  you?" 

"  Why,  that  is  for  mama  and  papa  to 
settle,"  remarked  Frances,  artfully  dodging 


78  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

the  question,  though  perfectly  understand- 
ing it. 

"  This  is  n't  to  be  settled  by  fathers 
and  mothers.  My  dar  —  my  —  I  want 
you  to  go  —  because  you  have  become  so 
dear  to  me.  I  want  to  tell  you  —  to  tell 
you  how  I  have  grown  to  love  you  in 
these  months.  How  happy  you  can  make 
me  by  a  single  word.  I  —  you  —  once 
you  told  me  you  were  not  'my  dear  child.' 
Oh,  Frances,  won't  you  be  my  dearest 
love?" 

"  If    you    want     me    to    be,"    acceded 

Frances. 

# 
*  * 

One  of  the  simplest  laws  of  natural 
philosophy  is  that  a  thing  descends  more 
easily  than  it  ascends.  Yet  it  took  those 
two  over  four  times  longer  to  come  down 
than  it  had  taken  them  to  go  up,  —  which 
proves  that  love  is  superior  to  all  the  laws 
of  gravity;  though  it  is  not  meant  to 
suggest  by  this  that  it  has  aught  to 
do  with  levity.  From  among  a  variety 
of  topics  with  which  they  beguiled  this 


A  Warning  to  Lovers          79 

slow  descent  the  following  sentences  are 
selected : 

"  I  can't  believe  it  yet,"  marvelled  Champ- 
ney.  "  It  does  n't  seem  as  if  our  happi- 
ness could  have  depended  on  such  a  small 
chance." 

"  What  chance  ?  " 

"  Why  —  on  that  evening.  When  I 
found  your  mother  was  n't  in,  I  half 
turned  away,  but  after  hesitating,  decided 
to  wait.  And  then,  when  I  found  you 
two  in  the  morning-room,  I  decided  that 
I  would  leave  you,  and  go  and  read  in 
the  library.  I  was  just  about  to  say  so, 
when  you  told  me  to  sit  down  by  you 
on  the  sofa.  That  led  to  our  coming  off 
here  together,  and  really  finding  out  about 
each  other.  Of  course  that  was  equivalent 
to  my  falling  desperately  in  love." 

"  But  you  could  have  done  that  at 
home,"  laughed  Frances,  merrily. 

"No,  I  should  have  come  off  here,  and 
some  other  man  would  have  won  you.1* 

"Champney!  I  never  could  love  any 
one  but  you." 


8o  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Champney  swallowed  the  absurd  state- 
ment rapturously.  "  That 's  just  like  the 
angel  that  you  are,"  he  declared. 

"  But  I  knew  you  had  something  to 
do  with  our  coming,"  asserted  Frances, 
"  though  you  did  deny  it." 

"  No ;  like  a  consummate  donkey,  I 
did  n't  want  to  be  bothered  with  you. 
Conceive  of  it,  dear  one,  that  I  could 
ever  think  you  a  bother!" 

"  You  did  n't  know  me,"  laughed 
Frances  happily,  and  with  no  intention 
of  vanity. 

"  No,  I  should  think  not.  I  wanted 
your  father  to  take  you.  But  I  shall  never 
want  any  one  else  to  do  that  in  the  future." 

"  But  why  did  you  want  me  to  go  to 
Europe,  if  it  was  n't  to  be  with  me  ?  " 

"  Why  —  um  —  because,  dear  one,  I 
saw  a  little  girl  that  night  who  was  long- 
ing so  for  love  that  she  was  accepting  a 
cheap  and  flashy  counterfeit  in  its  stead. 
I  did  n't  want  her  to  waste  a  real  heart  on 
such  an  apology  for  a  man,  and  so  I 
interfered." 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  81 

"  But  how  did  you  know  ? "  cried 
Frances,  looking  bewildered.  "We  had 
only  just  —  you  could  n't  have  known  it 
then  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  ?  " 

Champney  laughed  as  he  replied: 
"  That 's  telling."  *" 

# 
*       # 

And  now,  another  leap,  please,  back  to 
that  fireplace,  and  sofa,  again  occupied  by 
two  —  but  not  the  same  two  —  or,  at  least, 
only  half  the  same. 

"  Well,"  groaned  Champney, "  I  suppose 
I  ought  to  be  going,  for  you  must  look 
your  prettiest  to-morrow,  otherwise  mali- 
cious people  will  say  it 's  a  match  arranged 
for  the  business." 

"  Let  them,"  laughed  Frances.  "  By 
the  way,  how  have  you  arranged  about 
that  ?  You  are  such  a  good  business 
man,  and  papa  and  mama  are  so  delighted, 
that  I  know  you  have  the  best  of  it." 

"Of  course  I  have.  And  she's  sitting 
beside  me  now.  But  nothing  mercenary 


82  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

to-night,  Madam,"  ordered  Champney. 
"  Cupid,  not  cupidity." 

"  Well,  Champney,  dear,  at  least  do  tell 
me  how  you  found  out  about  —  about  —  " 
Frances  stopped  there. 

"  Never."  persisted  Champney,  nestling 
back  on  the  sofa  and  laughing. 

"  I  don't  think  it 's  nice  for  a  man  to 
have  secrets  from  his  wife,"  reproved 
Frances,  taking  an  eminently  feminine 
view  of  man's  knowledge. 

"  That  is  to  be,"  corrected  Champney. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  —  after  to-morrow  ? " 

"No." 

"  Why  not? * 

"  It 's  too  good  to  be  told." 

"Ah,  Champney!"  And  a  small  hand 
strayed  round  his  neck,  and  rested  lightly 
against  his  cheek.  Champney  looked  very 
contented. 

"  Please,  dear."  And  a  pair  of  lips  came 
dangerously  close  to  his  own. 

Champney  groaned  a  satisfied  groan. 
"Well,"  he  began,  "do  you  remember 
when  I  came  in  the  evening  before  we 


A  Warning  to  Lovers  83 

sailed,  how  Freddy  was  sitting  over  there, 
and  you  were  sitting  just  where  you 
are?" 

"Yes." 

"And  how  you  let  me  sit  down  here, 
just  where  I  am?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  how  I  chatted  for  a  moment  and 
then  suddenly  became  silent  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  That  was  when  I  discovered  it." 

"How?" 

"  I  found  that  the  seat  I  was  sitting  in 
was  warm  !  " 


"SAUCE     FOR    THE     GOOSE     IS 
SAUCE   FOR  THE   GANDER." 


"SAUCE     FOR    THE     GOOSE     IS 
SAUCE   FOR  THE   GANDER" 


"  /^\H,   my  dear!"   cried    her  mother. 

V_-/  "  I  hope  you  have  properly  consid- 
ered? He  is  charming,  of  course,  but  — 
well  —  he  is  such  a  club  habitue." 

"  What  ?  Well,  well ! "  exclaimed  her 
father.  "  Bless  me,  Meg,  I  had  no  idea  — 
Give  me  a  kiss,  if  you  have  any  to  spare 
for  your  old  dad  now.  Why,  of  course, 
I  consent,  if  you  care  for  him.  Only  tell 
Mr.  Tyler  I  hear  he  spends  too  much  time 
at  his  clubs." 

"  Margaret!  How  nice !  "  ejaculated  her 
sister.  "  I  Ve  liked  him  from  the  start, 
and  hoped  —  people  said  he  was  too  fond 
of  his  club  ever  to  care  to  marry,  and  so 
I  thought  —  but  now  it 's  all  right." 

"  I  knew  he  meant  biz,"  asserted  her 
brother,  "the  moment  he  began  to  keep 


88  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

away  from  the  club,  and  put  in  so  much 
time  with  you." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  my  dearest  Mar- 
garet (if  I  may  call  you  that?),"  wrote  his 
mother,  "  how  happy  I  am  over  what  my 
dear  boy  has  just  told  me.  The  luxury 
and  ease  of  club  life  are  now  so  great  that 
I  had  almost  feared  Harry  could  not  be 
weaned  from  them.  But  since  he  has 
chosen  such  a  dear,  beautiful,  and  clever 
girl,  my  worst  anxiety  is  over." 

"  You  are  indeed  to  be  congratulated, 
niece,"  declared  her  aunt.  "  He  is  a  most 
eligible  parti  —  good  looks,  position,  and 
wealth.  If  you  can  only  keep  him  away 
from  his  clubs,  I  am  confident  you  will 
be  a  very  happy  and  domestic  couple." 

"  I  have  been  certain  of  it  for  weeks," 
her  dearest  feminine  friend  assured  her. 
"  There  is  n't  a  man  I  would  rather  have 
had  you  take,  for  he  is  so  much  at  his 
club  that  I  shall  still  see  something  of 
you." 

"Er,  Miss  Brewster,"  said  one  of  her 
rejected  lovers,  "  let  me  offer  you  my 


Sauce  for  the  Goose  89 

best  wishes.  At  the  club  we  all  swear  by 
Harry,  and  we  actually  think  of  going  into 
mourning  over  the  loss.  Er,  the  fellows 
are  laying  bets  as  to  whether  we  shall  ever 
see  him  there  again.  The  odds  are  six 
to  one  on  the  club,  —  but  the  fellows  don't 
know  you,  you  know." 

"  I  want  to  offer  you  my  heartiest  con- 
gratulations," gushed  the  girl  who  had 
tried  for  him.  "  Mr.  Tyler  has  always  been 
one  of  my  best  friends,  and  I  am  sure  you 
will  be  very  happy.  He  isn't,  of  course, 
very  fond  of  women's  society,  but —  Have 

you  asked  him  to  resign  from  his  clubs  ?  " 

* 

"  Don't  you  want  to  sit  down,  Harry  ?  " 
asked  Margaret,  making  room  on  the  little 
sofa  beside  the  fire. 

The  young  couple  had  enjoyed  four 
months  of  ecstatic  travel,  thirty  days  of 
chaos  while  they  settled  their  household 
gods,  and  then  a  recurring  Indian-summer 
honeymoon  of  two  months  in  front  of 
their  own  fireside  in  the  charmingly  cosey 
library  where  the  above  remark  was  made. 


90  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Upon  this  particular  evening,  however, 
Harry,  in  following  his  wife  from  the  din- 
ing-room, took  neither  his  customary  seat 
beside  his  wife  on  the  sofa  nor  lighted  a 
cigar.  On  the  contrary,  he  stood  leaning 
against  the  mantel  with  anything  but  an 
expression  or  attitude  of  ease,  and,  noting 
this,  Margaret  had  asked  her  question. 

"  Not  to-night,  dear,"  said  Harry.  "  The 
truth  is  —  well  —  I  met  Parmlee  on  my 
way  up  town,  and  I  —  that  is  —  he  asked 
me  to  come  round  to  the  club  this  evening 
—  and,  well  —  I  didn't  like  to  disappoint 
him.  And  then,  a  fellow  must  n't  stag  — 
that  is  —  don't  you  think,  my  darling,  that 
it 's  a  mistake  for  married  people  to  see 
too  much  of  each  other  —  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  Harry ! "  cried  Margaret,  inter- 
rupting and  rising.  "  You  said  you  never 
could  have  enough  —  " 

"  And  I  can't,  dearest,"  interrupted 
Harry,  hurriedly.  "  But  you  know  — 
Well  — can't  you  —  " 

"  I  feel  as  if  it  were  the  beginning  of  the 
end,"  said  Margaret,  wildly. 


Sauce  for  the  Goose  91 

"  Now,  my  darling,"  pleaded  Harry, 
"  do  be  reasonable.  You  know  —  There, 
don't  cry.  I  won't  go.  Sit  down  here 
and  let  me  tell  you  how  much  I  love 
you." 

This  occupied  some  time,  but  the  clock 
never  told  on  them,  so  it  is  impossible  to  say 
just  how  long.  Presently  Margaret  said : 

"  Harry,  did  you  really  want  to  —  to 
leave  me  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  lied  Harry.  "  It  was  only 
to  keep  my  word  to  Parmlee." 

"  I  suppose  it 's  too  late  now  ?  "  ques- 
tioned Margaret,  hopefully. 

"Late?  Oh,  no!  Fun's  just  begin- 
ning. But  I  'm  going  to  stay  with  you, 
sweetheart." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then' 
Margaret  said :  "  If  you  want  to  go,  I  want 
you  to  do  it,  Harry." 

"Well,"  responded  Harry,  rising,  "if 
you  insist,  dearest." 

"  I  do,"  assented  Margaret,  in  the  most 
faint-hearted  of  voices. 

"  That 's  a  darling !  "  said  her  husband 


92  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  It 's  half-past  nine,  so  you  '11  only  have  a 
few  minutes  of  loneliness  before  you  go  to 
bed." 

"  I  sha'n't  go  to  bed,  Harry,"  sighed 
Margaret,  dolefully. 

"  Why,  my  darling,"  protested  Harry,  a 
little  irritably,  "  you  don't  want  to  make 
me  miserable  thinking  of  you  as  here  by 
yourself.  Please  be  reasonable  and  don't 
sit  up  for  me.  Leave  me  free  to  come 
home  when  I  want." 

"  Very  well,  Harry,"  acceded  Margaret, 
dutifully,  "if  you  insist  I  won't  wait  for 
your  return." 

Harry  took  the  charming  face  in  his 
hands,  and  kissed  each  eyelid,  and  then 
the  lips.  "  I  don't  deserve  such  an  angel," 
he  asserted,  his  conscience  pricking  him, 
"  and —  Oh,  hang  Parmlee ! "  he  growled, 
as  her  eyes,  a  little  misty,  looked  up 
into  his  own.  However,  she  belonged  to 
him,  and  there  were  plenty  of  evenings, 
and  —  well  —  "  Good-night,  my  trea- 
sure," he  ended. 


* 
*  * 


Sauce  for  the  Goose  93 

Margaret  remained  standing  where 
Harry  had  left  her  until  she  heard  the 
front  door  close ;  then  she  collapsed  on 
the  sofa  and  softly  sobbed  her  sense  of 
desertion  and  grief  into  the  pillow.  The 
warnings  of  her  family  and  friends  re- 
curred to  her,  and  added  to  the  pain  of  the 
moment  a  direful  dread  of  the  future. 
Not  knowing  that  most  bachelors  are 
regular  club  men  merely  because  it  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  home  life  they  can 
attain,  she  dwelt  on  his  having  been  ap- 
parently wedded  to  these  comforters  of 
men,  before  marriage,  and  inferred  a  re- 
turn to  his  former  daily  frequenting  of 
them. 

Her  grief  was  keen  enough  to  prevent 
her  from  noticing  that  the  front  door  was 
presently  opened,  and  not  till  she  heard  a 
faint  cough  in  the  room  did  she  raise  her 
head  from  the  pillow.  It  was  to  find  a 
servant  with  his  back  turned  to  the  sofa, 
occupied,  apparently,  in  setting  a  chair  in 
a  position  entirely  unsuited  to  it,  — a  pro- 
ceeding he  made  far  more  noisy  than  be- 


94  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

came  a  well-trained  butler,  and  which  he 
accompanied  with  two  more  coughs. 

Hurriedly  wiping  her  eyes,  Margaret 
asked,  "What  is  it,  Craig?" 

With  his  eyes  carefully  focussed  to  see 
everything  but  his  mistress's  face,  the  man 
came  forward  and  held  out  his  tray. 

Almost  mechanically  she  took  the  card 
upon  it,  and  after  a  mere  glance  she 
directed,  —  "Say  that  Mrs.  Tyler  is  not 
receiving  this  evening,  and  begs  to  be 
excused." 

Left  alone  once  more,  the  young  wife  sat 
down  upon  a  stool  near  the  fire,  and  looked 
into  the  blaze,  idly  twirling  the  card.  "  I 
wonder,"  she  soliloquised  presently,  "  if  he 
would  have  done  the  same."  Again  she 
lapsed  into  meditation,  for  a  few  minutes ; 
then  suddenly  she  sat  up  straight,  with  an 
air  of  sudden  interest  which  was  clearly 
derived  from  her  own  thoughts.  A  mo- 
ment later,  she  gave  a  short,  hesitating 
laugh.  "If  I  only  dared!  I  wonder  if 
he  would  ?  Men  are  —  "  she  said  discon- 
nectedly ;  but  even  as  she  spoke  her  face 


Sauce  for  the  Goose  95 

softened.  "  Poor  dear !  "  she  murmured 
tenderly.  Yet  the  words  of  pity  melted 
into  another  laugh,  and  this  time  merri- 
ment and  not  guilt  was  the  dominant 
note.  Springing  to  her  feet  with  viva- 
city, she  sped  into  the  hall,  and  placed 
the  card  on  the  tray,  and  that  in  turn 
conspicuously  on  the  hatrack.  A  second 
action  consisted  in  turning  on  all  the 
electric  lights  of  the  chandelier.  This 
done,  she  touched  the  bell. 

"  You  may  close  the  house,  Craig,"  she 
ordered,  when  the  servant  responded  to  the 
summons,  "  but  as  Mr.  Tyler  has  gone  to 
his  club,  I  wish  you  to  leave  these  lights 
just  as  they  are.  I  prefer  that  he  should 
not  come  home  to  a  darkened  house,  so 
don't  turn  out  one."  Giving  one  last 
glance,  half  merry  and  half  guilty,  at  the 
bit  of  pasteboard  put  in  so  prominent  a 
position,  Margaret  lightly  tripped  upstairs, 

humming  something  to  herself. 

# 
#  # 

Meantime  Harry  had  wended  his  way 
to  the  club. 


96  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  Hello,  Tyler ! "  said  the  man  his  wife 
had  refused.  "  Don't  mean  to  say  you  Ve 
actually  ceased  to  be  one  of  the  *  submerged 
tenth  ? '  How  and  where  is  your  superior 
moiety  ?  " 

"  When  I  left  Mrs.  Tyler  before  her  fire, 
ten  minutes  ago,  she  was  very  well." 

"  By  George,  if  I  had  as  clever  and 
pretty  a  wife  I  don't  think  I  should  dare 
to  leave  her  alone.  I  should  be  afraid  of 
the  other  men." 

Harry  turned  away  to  hide  his  frown, 
but  as  he  went  towards  the  door  of 
the  billiard  room,  rejoined :  "  Perhaps  it 
would  n't  be  safe  with  your  wife."  To 
himself  he  carolled  gleefully :  "  That  cuts 
both  ways." 

"  But  you  are  not  afraid,  I  understand," 
called  the  man,  irritatingly,  "so  I  take  it 
you  won't  mind  if  I  drop  round  there  for  a 
few  moments  this  evening,  eh  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not, "  responded  Harry, 
suavely,  but  gritting  his  teeth.  "  Hang  the 
fellow,"  he  muttered.  "  How  do  such  cads 
ever  get  into  decent  clubs  ?  As  if  Mar- 


Sauce  for  the  Goose  97 

garet's  refusing  him  twice  was  n't  enough 
to  make  him  understand  that  she  does  n't 
want  him  round !  " 

Tyler's  anger  was  quickly  forgotten  in 
the  warm  reception  his  cronies  gave  him, 
and  a  tumbler  of  "  unsweetened "  and  a 
cue  quickly  made  him  forget  both  the 
incident  and  the  passing  hours.  Not  till 
the  marker  notified  the  players  that  the 
time  limit  had  come  did  he  wake  to  the 
fact  that  it  was  two  o'clock. 

With  a  sense  of  guilt  the  husband  hur- 
ried home.  In  the  hallway,  as  he  took  off 
hat  and  coat,  he  noticed  the  card,  and 
picked  it  up.  "  So  he  did  come,"  he 
growled,  with  a  frown.  "  I  hope  Meg  had 
gone  to  bed  before  he  got  here.  Not,  of 
course,  that  it  really  matters,"  he  went  on. 
"She  told  me  she  never  could  endure 
him,  so  he 's  welcome  to  call  as  often 
as  he  likes  to  be  snubbed."  To  prove 
how  little  he  cared,  the  husband  crushed 
the  card  viciously,  and  tossed  it  on  the 
floor. 

The  light  in  Margaret's  room  was  burn- 

7 


98  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

ing  low,  Harry  noticed  when  he  had  as- 
cended the  stairs,  and,  peeping  in,  he  saw 
that  she  was  sleeping  peacefully.  Enter- 
ing quietly,  he  looked  at  her  for  a  moment, 
thinking  with  a  little  pang  that  he  had 
given  her  pain.  "  You  don't  deserve  such 
an  angel,"  he  said  aloud.  "  See  how  she 
has  done  just  what  you  asked  her  to  do, 
with  never  a  word  of —  There  is  n't  an- 
other woman  who  would  have  taken  it  so 
sweetly.  You  're  an  ass  !  And  for  what  ? 
Four  hours  of  —  of  nothing,  when  I  might 
have  been  with  her."  He  leaned  down  to 
very  softly  kiss  a  stray  curl,  and  went 
towards  his  own  room,  while  saying : 
"  How  pretty  and  dainty  she  is !  She 's 
worth  all  the  clubs  in  the  world  ! "  What 
was  more,  for  a  minute  he  believed  it. 

The  moment  Harry  was  gone  Margaret 
opened  her  eyes  very  wide,  rose  softly, 
and  looked  at  the  clock.  Then  she 

went  back  to  bed,  smiling  demurely. 

* 
*  * 

The  next  morning,  when  Harry  entered 
the  breakfast  room  a  little  late,  he  was 


Sauce  for  the  Goose  99 

received  with  a  kiss,  and  no  word  of 
reproach.  Margaret  chatted  over  the  meal 
in  her  usual  entertaining,  happy  mood,  tell- 
ing him  the  news  she  had  already  extracted 
from  the  morning 's  paper. 

"She's  too  clever  ever  to  nag  a  man," 
thought  Harry,  and  assured  that  he  was 
not  to  be  taken  to  task,  he  became  equally 
amiable,  and  told  her  whom  he  had  seen 
at  the  club,  and  of  his  score. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  had  such  a  pleasant  even- 
ing!" said  Margaret,  sweetly.  "I  hope 
you  did  n't  stay  so  late  as  to  tire  yourself." 

"  I  did  n't  notice  the  time,"  fibbed  Harry, 
"  but  probably  I  was  in  by  twelve." 

"  Oh,  no,  dear,"  said  Margaret,  pleas- 
antly, "  for  I  did  n't  get  home  till  after  one 

myself,  and  you  were  n't  back  then." 
* 

Twenty  times  Harry  has  tried  to  per- 
suade his  wife  into  acknowledging  that 
she  spoke  in  jest,  but  Margaret  only  looks 
at  him  with  wideopen,  questioning  eyes, 
as  innocent  as  a  child's.  Her  husband 
firmly  believes  that  she  went  to  bed  ten 


loo         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

minutes  after  he  left  the  house,  and  always 
ends  his  unsuccessful  attempts  to  get  her 
to  confess  the  fact  by  taking  Margaret  in 
his  arms  and  telling  her  of  his  belief. 
This  faith  his  wife  rewards  with  a  tender 
kiss,  but  only  a  kiss,  and  still  maintains 
her  demure  silence. 

Harry  spends  no  more  evenings  at  the 
club,  and  every  woman  who  knows  him 
holds  him  up  to  other  men  as  an  ideal 
married  Benedick. 


THE   CORTELYOU    FEUD 


THE   CORTELYOU    FEUD 


IT  could  never  have  happened  to  us 
anywhere  in  New  York  but  at  Mrs. 
Baxter's.  I  say  this  not  with  bitterness  at, 
but  in  calm  recognition  of,  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  that  universally  esteemed  lady. 
Abroad,  with  the  lords  chamberlain,  her- 
ald's offices,  and  peerages,  it  would  be 
impossible.  In  the  far  West,  where  the 
biography  and  genealogy  of  the  leading 
families  are  not  subjects  for  polite  con- 
versation, it  might  occur  frequently.  But 
in  New  York,  lying  between  these  two 
extremes,  one  is  safe,  except  from  acci- 
dents due  to  the  unfortunate  existence  of 
a  peculiar  class  of  people. 

The  kind  I  refer  to  are  those  described 
as  having  a  good  heart.  Such  an  organ 
involves,  as  a  natural  corollary,  a  weak 
head.  These  qualities  in  combination  are 
a  terrible  menace  to  society ;  for,  owing 


IO4          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

to  the  very  goodness  of  heart,  their  posses- 
sors are  pardoned  over  and  over  again,  and 
repeat  their  ill  deeds  with  as  much  im- 
munity from  punishment  as  a  New  York 
police  captain.  Every  social  circle  has 
one  or  more  of  these  half-criminals,  and  in 
that  in  which  my  lot  was  cast  Mrs.  Baxter 
was  unequalled  for  the  number,  ingenuity, 
and  innocence  of  her  mistakes.  Omitting 
all  hearsay  and  they-say  knowledge,  I  was 
her  forty-seventh  victim;  and  as  pcenolo- 
gists  affirm  that  more  than  half  of  the 
criminal  acts  are  undiscovered,  it  can  at 
once  be  seen  how  society  is  menaced  by 
people  with  good  hearts. 

The  lady  who  always  tells  me  when  I 
do  wrong  —  and  to  married  men  I  need 
not  be  more  descriptive  —  has  held  me 
responsible  for  that  evening;  and,  since 
she  married  me,  her  husband  is  not  the 
one  to  impeach  her  discrimination.  She 
insists  that,  knowing  Mrs.  Baxter,  I  should 
have  come  early,  and  so  had  time  to  ar- 
range matters  quietly.  I  appeal  to  any 
man  if  if  would  ever  occur  to  him  to  get 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          105 

to  a  dinner  early  on  the  possibility  he 
was  to  sit  next  a  lighted  shell,  in  order 
that  he  might  express  to  his  hostess  his 
dislike  of  explosives.  All  New  York 
has  known  for  years  of  our  family  feud. 
It's  been  common  property  ever  since  our 
esteemed  ancestors  thrashed  it  out  in 
court,  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  public  and 
the  disruption  of  our  family.  For  thirty 
years  dinners,  luncheons,  yacht  cruises,  and 
house  parties  have  been  arranged  so  as 
to  keep  a  proper  distance  between  the  de- 
scendants of  my  grandfather  John  Cortel- 
you and  of  his  nephew  Dabney.  Some- 
times I  have  seen  one  of  the  latter  at  the 
opposite  end  of  a  large  dinner-table,  and 
here  and  there  I  have  had  other  glimpses 
of  them.  But  until  that  evening,  no 
matter  how  close  chance  brought  us  to- 
gether, we  had  always  succeeded  in  main- 
taining a  dignified  unconsciousness  of 
each  other's  existence. 

I  was,  let  it  be  confessed,  thirty  minutes 
late,  and  merely  accepting  the  last  little 
envelope  on  the  tray  the  footman  offered 


io6          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

me,  hurried  towards  the  drawing-room. 
On  my  way  I  naturally  looked  at  the  card 
inside  and  read : 

Mr.  Pellew. 
Miss  Cortelyou. 

That  meant  nothing  to  me.  The  name  is 
not  an  uncommon  one,  and  I  have  taken 
in  my  aunts  often  enough  to  get  accus- 
tomed to  the  occurrence,  even  in  the 
family.  So,  without  a  second  thought  of 
the  matter,  I  passed  through  the  doorway 
and  discharged  my  devoirs  with  Mrs. 
Baxter. 

"  I  was  on  the  point  of  suicide,  thinking 
you  had  failed  me,"  she  said.  "  As  it  is, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dana  have  just  sent  me  word 
that  they  can't  come  because  Milly  has 
croup." 

"  My  note  said  half  after  seven,"  I  stated 
boldly.  When  one  is  very  late  it  is  always 
best  to  put  one's  hostess  in  the  wrong,  and 
a  mistake  more  or  less  to  Mrs.  Baxter  was 
immaterial. 

"  Oh,  never  I "  she  declared,  so  guiltily 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          107 

that  I  was  really  sorry  for  her.  "Well, 
we  can't  discuss  it  now.  We  were  just 
going  in  without  you,  and  \ve  '11  go  on, 
leaving  you  to  find  your  partner  by  the 
process  of  elimination.  I  have  n't  left  you 
Hobson's  choice,  however." 

I  glanced  round,  and  as  the  couples  had 
gravitated  together,  I  easily  picked  out  the 
only  single  figure  left,  and  went  towards 
it.  She  was  turned  from  me,  standing  by 
Ferdie  Gallaudet  and  his  partner,  who  had 
not  yet  moved. 

"  That  back  is  too  young  and  pretty 
for  Aunt  Ellen  or  Madge,"  was  my  first 
thought.  My  second  was  a  spoken  one, 
and  merely  consisted  of  the  trite,  "  I  am 
to  have  the  pleasure,  Miss  Cortelyou." 

She  was  saying  something  to  the  girl, 
and  went  on  saying  it,  with  her  head  over 
her  shoulder,  even  as  she  rested  her  hand 
on  my  arm  and  let  me  lead  her  away. 
And  just  as  I  was  going  to  look  at  her,  I 
caught  sight  of  Ferdie's  face,  and  fell  to 
wondering  what  could  ail  him  that  he 
looked  so  queer.  We  had  been  close  to 


io8          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

the  door,  and  before  she  had  finished  her 
remark,  or  I  had  ceased  from  wondering, 
we  were  through  it  and  in  the  half-gloom 
of  the  hall. 

41 1  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she,  turning 
to  me,  and  speaking  very  sweetly.  "  It 
was  a  message,  and  I  had  only  just  begun 
when  you  came." 

"  What  a  nuisance  messages  are  !  "  was 
my  remark.  "  What  a  nice  voice  you 
have  !  "  was  my  thought.  Then  we  entered 
the  dining-room,  and  I  glanced  at  my 
partner.  It  was  Kate  Cortelyou  ! 

She  looked  at  me  at  the  same  moment, 
and  as  our  eyes  met,  an  expression  of 
consternation  appeared  on  both  our  faces. 
At  least,  that 's  what  I  felt  in  myself  and 
saw  in  her.  Horror  succeeded  as  a  next 
sensation  and  expression.  Womanlike, 
she  cast  her  eyes  appealingly  towards  her 
hostess,  and,  manlike,  I  took  a  step  to- 
wards the  hall  door.  In  another  second  I 
think  I  should  have  bolted,  but  just  then 
Ferdie  Gallaudet  said,  "  Here 's  your  seat, 
Jack,"  with  a  grin  like  a  Cheshire  cat 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          109 

on  his  face.  I  looked  at  Kate  and  she 
looked  at  me.  Then  we  both  looked  at  the 
chairs.  Mechanically  I  stepped  to  them 
and  pulled  out  that  on  the  right  of  mine. 
Kate's  eyelashes  fluttered  for  a  moment, 
as  if  she  were  hesitating ;  then  she  slipped 
into  the  seat,  and  the  next  moment  I 
was  sitting  beside  her.  But  enchant- 
ingly  pretty  as  I  thought  her  (and  I  was 
either  too  fair-minded  or  she  was  too 
beautiful  for  me  not  to  acknowledge  it, 
however  much  I  might  dislike  to  do  so), 
I  could  only  wish  I  had  broken  my  leg 
on  my  way  to  the  house. 

I  turned  to  my  left  to  see  if  any  escape 
were  possible,  but  my  neighbour  on  that 
side  was  that  horrible  perpetual  motion 
of  a  Mrs.  Marvin,  and,  besides,  she  was 
very  properly  occupied  with  her  partner. 
I  peered  furtively  behind  Kate  to  see  if 
she  could  escape  me,  for  anything  was 
better  than  the  alternative.  Next  her 
were  two  empty  seats.  Mrs.  Baxter's 
capacity  for  social  blundering  had  done 
its  worst. 


no          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

There  is  this  to  be  said  for  the  Cortelyou 
women,  whether  friends  or  enemies :  I  Ve 
never  seen  one  show  the  white  feather  in 
action.  Just  as  I  was  preparing  to  collapse 
under  this  accumulation  of  horrors,  Kate 
turned  to  me,  with  the  friendliest  of  smiles, 
and  murmured,  — 

"  It 's  ghastly,  but  every  one  except  Mrs. 
Baxter  is  watching  us." 

I  took  a  furtive  glimpse  of  the  other 
guests.  They  were  all  pretending  to  talk, 
but  all  clearly  were  missing  nothing  of  our 
tableau  vivant.  Was  n't  she  clever  to  have 
seen  it  so  quickly  ? 

"  They  hope  we  '11  make  a  show  of  the 
family  for  their  benefit,"  I  growled. 

"  Can't  we  —  "  suggested  Kate,  and  then 
hesitated,  and  blushed  very  prettily.  The 
Cortelyou  women  are  plucky,  but  Kate 
was  only  nineteen. 

I  never  was  good  as  leader,  but  at  the 
shafts  I  'm  steady  and  reliable.  "  Of  course 
we  can,"  I  responded,  won  by  that  blush. 

"  Don't  frown,  then,"  smiled  Kate. 

"  I  was  not  frowning  at  you,"  I  protested 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          1 1 1 

"  But  they  '11  think  you  are,"  she  replied. 

I  tried  to  appear  as  pleased  as  Kate  so 
successfully  pretended  to  be,  and  she  re- 
warded me  with  an  encouraging  "  That 's 
better,"  and  a  very  refreshing-  look  at  her 
eyes. 

"  Now,"  she  continued,  "  how  can  we 
do  it?" 

"  I  'm  pretty  well  up  on  the  litany,"  I 
whispered.  "  If  you  can  do  the  supplica- 
tions I  can  respond  with  the  '  miserable 
sinner '  part." 

Kate  laughed  merrily,  even  while  shaking 
her  head  reprovingly.  Kate  has  nice  teeth. 
"  You  are  painfully  frank,"  she  told  me. 

"Frank?" 

"  Yes.  You  are  probably  not  a  bit  more 
miserable  than  I  am,  but  I  don't  groan 
aloud." 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  I  exclaimed,  rather  horri- 
fied at  the  construction  my  speech  had 
been  given.  "  It  would  be  pure  form,  you 
know,  quite  as  it  is  in  church,  and  not 
mean  a  bit  more  than  it  does  when  the 
sinner  's  pretty  and  wears  a  French  gown." 


112          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Kate  drew  her  mouth  down  into  a 
church-goir.g  expression,  which  was  very 
fetching  in  its  demureness,  but  which 
was  n't  suitable  for  our  public  performance, 
so  I  remarked : 

"  Don't  look  so  disapproving.  The 
saintly  vein  suits  the  Madonna  type,  but 
the  Cortelyou  forte  lies  in  quite  another 
direction." 

I  won  another  laugh  from  those  un- 
saintly  lips.  "  You  are  worse  than  I 
thought,"  she  added. 

"  Then  you  have  thought  cf  me  ?  "  I  in- 
quired, beginning  to  mellow  under  her 
laugh.  That  was  a  mistake,  for  her  face 
instantly  became  serious,  and  her  eyes 
gave  a  flash. 

"  What  I  think  is  my  own  concern,"  she 
responded.  The  Cortelyou  women  are 
stunning  when  they  look  haughty. 

Being  one  of  the  family,  however,  I  am 
too  accustomed  to  the  look  to  be  as  en- 
tirely crushed  by  it  as  others  are.  "  Who 's 
frowning  now  ? "  I  asked.  I  thought  I  'd 
learn  what  kind  of  a  temper  Kate  had- 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          113 

She  still  smiled  as  if  she  liked  being  put 
next  me,  but  her  eyes  gleamed,  and  I  knew 
she  'd  pay  me  for  my  speech  if  the  oppor- 
tunity occurred. 

"  We  can't  begin  like  this,"  she  said. 
"  Suggest  something  else." 

"  I  once  heard  of  a  poor  couple  in  an  Eng- 
lish county  who  were  always  sitting  next 
each  other,  so  they  agreed  to  count  alter- 
native tens  up  to  a  thousand,"  I  answered. 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  have  n't  enough  facial 
control  for  that,"  replied  Kate,  sweetly, 
appearing  the  picture  of  contentment. 
I  thought  her  remark  unnecessary,  consid- 
ering we  had  been  face  to  face  only  a  few 
minutes,  and  that  she  had  just  lost  control 
of  hers. 

"  Then  suggest  something  yourself,"  I 
muttered. 

"  As  the  photographer  says,  '  A  little 
more  smile,  please,' '  corrected  Kate. 
"  Yes,  you  unquestionably  have  the  Cor 
telyou  temper,"  she  added  serenely. 

"If  I  had,"  I  asserted,  "I  should  long 

since  have  turned  to  Mrs.  Marvin,  who  is 
s 


114          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

dying  for  a  listener."  I  thought  I  'd  let 
Kate  understand  /  was  n't  sitting  next  two 
empty  chairs. 

She  realised  my  advantage,  but  she 
would  n't  retreat.  The  Cortelyou  women 
never  do.  Yet  she  knew  enough  to  allow 
the  honours  of  war  to  a  hard-driven  enemy. 
"  The  Cortelyou  men  are  gentlemen,"  she 
said.  Was  n't  that  a  neat  way  of  telling 
me  that  I  would  never  fail  a  woman  in 
distress?  I  felt  pleased  that  she  under- 
stood the  family  so  well  as  to  have  no  fear 
for  the  conduct  of  even  her  bitterest 
enemy.  "  Besides,"  she  continued,  "  I  like 
the  Cortelyou  temper." 

I  raised  my  eyebrows. 

"  Yes,"  she  persisted,  "  it 's  an  absolutely 
reliable  factor.  Now,  papa  —  "  Then  she 
hesitated,  realising  the  slip. 

With  an  older  girl  I  should  have  let  her 
flounder,  and  enjoyed  it;  but  she  was 
so  young,  and  blushed  so  charmingly  that 
I  had  to  help  her  out.  "  Don't  keep  me  in 
suspense  about  your  father,"  I  said,  in 
my  most  interested  of  tones,  as  if  I  truly 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          1 1 5 

wished  to  know  something  of  that  blot  on 
the  'scutcheon.  This  was  my  second  mis- 
take, and  a  bad  one. 

"  We  '11  leave  Mr.  Dabney  Cortelyou 
out  of  the  conversation,  please,"  she  re- 
torted, looking  me  in  the  eyes.  Was  there 
ever  a  meaner  return  for  an  act  of  pure 
charity  than  that  ? 

By  the  way,  Kate's  eyes  are  not  Cortel- 
you.  I  wondered  from  where  she  got  them. 
When  we  are  angry  \ve  contract  ours, 
which  is  ugly.  She  opens  hers,  which  is 
—  I  tried  to  make  her  do  it  again  by  say- 
ing, "  You  should  set  a  better  example, 
then."  No  good  :  she  had  got  back  to  her 
form,  and  was  smiling  sweetly. 

"  They  are  furiously  disappointed  so 
far,"  she  remarked. 

"  What  an  old  curiosity  shop  the  world 
is  about  other  people's  affairs !  It 's  no 
concern  of  theirs  that  my  grandfather  and 
your  "  —  I  faltered,  and  went  on  —  "  that 
my  grandfather  had  a  row  in  his  family. 
We  don't  talk  of  it."  When  I  said  "  we  " 
I  meant  the  present  company,  but  unfor- 


n6         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

tunately  Kate  took  it  to  mean  our  faction, 
and  knowing  of  her  father's  idle  blabbing, 
she  did  n't  like  it. 

"  Your  side  has  always  dodged  public- 
ity," she  affirmed  viciously,  though  smil- 
ing winsomely.  Kate's  smile  must  be  her 
strong  card. 

"  We  have  maintained  a  dignified 
silence,"  I  responded  calmly ;  but  I  knew 
that  a  dagger  thrust  below  that  beautifully 
modelled  throat  would  be  less  cruel. 

She  tried  to  carry  the  wound  bravely. 
"  My  father  is  quite  justified  in  letting  the 
truth  be  known,"  she  insisted. 

"  Then  why  don't  you,  too,  give  public 
house-warmings  in  the  family-skeleton 
closet  ? "  I  inquired  blandly.  That  was 
really  a  triumph,  for  Kate  had  never  talked 
to  outsiders  about  the  wretched  business. 
She  could  n't  even  respond  with  what  she 
thought;  for  if  she  said  that  it  was  always 
the  side  in  the  wrong  which  talked,  she 
was  no  better  off,  because  we,  like  her, 
had  kept  silence,  but  her  father  had  chat- 
tered it  all  over  town.  She  looked  down, 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          117 

and  I  gloated  over  her  silence,  till  sud- 
denly I  thought  I  saw  a  suggestion  of 
moisture  on  her  down-turned  lashes. 
What  I  said  to  myself  was  not  flattering, 
and  moreover  is  not  fit  for  publication. 
What  I  said  aloud  I  still  glow  over  with 
pride  when  it  recurs  to  memory. 

"  Beware  of  the  croquette  !  "  I  exclaimed 
hastily.  "  I  Ve  just  burned  my  tongue  hor- 
ribly." And  I  reached  for  the  ice- water. 

She  was  as  quick  as  I  had  been.  The 
Cortelyou  girls  are  quick,  but  she  —  well, 
I  think  the  ancestress  who  gave  her  those 
eyes  must  have  been  a  little  quicker. 

"  You  spoke  a  moment  too  late,"  she 
replied,  looking  up  at  me.  "  I  had  just 
done  the  same,  and  feel  like  weeping." 
I  wonder  what  the  recording  angel  wrote 
against  those  two  speeches  ? 

Then  suddenly  Kate  began  to  laugh. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  I  queried. 

"  Taste  your  croquette,"  she  suggested. 

It  was  as  cool  as  it  should  have  been 
hot !  ' 

We  both  laughed  so  heartily  that  Mr. 


j  1 8          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Baxter  called,  "  Come ;  don't  keep  such  a 
good  story  to  yourselves." 

"  Pretend  you  are  so  engrossed  that  you 
did  n't  hear,"  advised  Kate,  simulating 
the  utmost  interest.  "  Are  n't  we  doing 
well  ?  " 

"  Thanks  to  you,"  was  my  gallant 
reply. 

"  Thanks  to  the  Cortelyous,"  she  de- 
clared. 

"  They  might  have  known,"  said  I,  "  that 
we  'd  never  have  a  public  circus  to  please 
them." 

"  Is  n't  it  nice,''  she  responded,  "  since 
we  had  to  have  a  fracas,  that  it  should  be 
between  ladies  and  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Is  n't  it  ?  "  I  acceded.  "  Just  suppos- 
ing there  had  been  some  cad  concerned, 
who  would  have  written  to  the  papers  and 
talked  to  reporters  !  " 

"  That  was  impossible,  because  we  are 
all  Cortelyous,"  explained  Kate.  I  like  a 
girl  who  stands  up  for  her  stock. 

"  Yes,"  I  assented.  "  And  that 's  the 
one  advantage  of  family  rows." 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          119 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,"  she  went  on,  "  that 
you  do  my  father  a  great  injustice.  Some 
natures  are  silent  in  grief  or  pain,  and 
some  must  cry  out.  Because  he  talks, 
merely  means  that  he  suffers." 

I  longed  to  quote  her  remark  about 
leaving  her  father  out  of  the  conversation, 
but  having  told  her  there  were  no  cads  in 
the  family,  the  quotation  was  unavailable. 
So  I  merely  observed,  "  Not  knowing  Mr. 
Dabney  Cortelyou,  I  have  had  no  chance 
to  do  him  justice." 

"  But  what  you  hear  — "  she  began, 
with  the  proudest  of  looks ;  and  it  really 
hurt  me  to  have  to  interrupt  her  by 
saying, — 

"  Since  I  only  get  word  of  him  from  his 
dearest  friends  I  am  forced  to  take  a  some- 
what jaundiced  view  of  him." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  surrounded  by 
toadies  who  pretend  to  know  him,"  she 
said  contemptuously. 

I  was  not  to  be  made  angry.  I  was 
enjoying  the  dinner  too  much.  "  It  would 
be  a  very  terrible  thing  for  our  mutual 


i  20          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

friends,"  I  continued,  "  if  the  breach  were 
ever  healed,  and  we  exchanged  notes  as  to 
their  tattling." 

"  Fortunately  they  are  in  no  danger," 
she  answered,  more  cheerfully  —  indeed  I 
might  say,  more  gleefully  —  than  it  seemed 
to  me  the  occasion  required. 

"  Fortunately,"  I  agreed,  out  of  self-re- 
spect. Then  I  weakened  a  little  by  adding, 
"  But  what  a  pity  it  is  you  and  I  did  n't 
have  the  settling  of  that  farm-line  !  " 

"  My  father  could  not  have  acted  other- 
wise,"  she  challenged  back. 

"And  the  courts  decided  that  my  grand- 
father was  right." 

"  I  should  have  done  just  as  he  did," 
she  replied. 

"  Then  you  acknowledge  my  grandfather 
was  right  ?  " 

"  I !  "  —  indignantly. 

"  You  just  assured  me  you  should  have 
done  as  he  did !  "  I  teased,  laughing.  "  No. 
Of  course  both  of  them  were  justified  in 
everything  but  in  their  making  a  legal 
matter  a  family  quarrel.  If  we  had  had  it 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          I  2 1 

to  do,  it  would  have  been  done  amicably,  I 
think." 

"  What  makes  you  so  sure  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  am  sweet-tempered,  and 
you  —  " 

She  would  n't  accept  a  compliment  from 
an  enemy,  so  interrupted  me  with,  "  My 
father  has  one  of  the  finest  natures  I  have 
ever  known." 

"'Physician,  know  thyself,'"  I  quoted, 
getting  in  the  compliment  in  spite  of  her. 

"  That 's  more  than  you  do,"  she  replied 
merrily. 

This  could  be  taken  in  two  ways,  but  I 
preferred  to  make  it  applicable  to  her 
rather  than  to  myself.  I  said,  "  Our 
acquaintance  has  been  short." 

"  But  we  know  all  about  the  stock,"  she 
corrected. 

"  I  'm  proud  of  the  family,"  I  acknow- 
ledged ;  "  but  don't  let 's  be  Ibsenish." 

"  I  knew  you  did  n't  like  him,"  said  Kate, 
confidentially.  "  I  don't  either." 

"  He  's  rather  rough  on  us  old  families," 
I  intimated. 


122          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  Sour  grapes,"  explained  Kate.  "  The 
would  n't-because-I-can't-be  people  always 
stir  up  the  sediments  of  my  Cortelyou 
temper." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  the  family  temper," 
I  suggested. 

"  In  anybody  but  myself,"  she  told  me. 
"With  others  it's  really  a  great  help. 
Now,  with  my  brothers,  I  know  just  how 
far  I  can  go  safely,  and  it 's  easy  to  manage 
them." 

"  I  suppose  that  accounts  for  the  ease 
with  which  you  manage  me." 

She  laughed,  and  replied  demurely, 
"  I  think  we  are  both  on  our  good 
behaviour." 

"  I  'm  afraid  our  respective  and  respected 
parents  won't  think  so." 

This  made  her  look  serious,  and  I  won- 
dered if  her  father  could  be  brute  enough 
ever  to  lose  that  awful  temper  of  his  at 
such  a  charming  daughter.  The  thought 
almost  made  me  lose  mine.  "  They 
can't  blame  you,"  I  assured  her.  "  Your 
father  —  " 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          123 

"  Is  sure  that  everything  I  do  is  right," 
she  interjected,  "  but  Mrs.  Pellew  ?  " 

"We  will  not  make  Mrs.  Pellew- 

Kate  saw  I  was  going  to  use  her  own 
speech,  and  she  interrupted  in  turn.  "  Of 
course  you  are  over  twenty-one,"  she 
continued,  "  but  the  Cortelyou  women 
always  have  their  way.  I  hope  she  won't 
be  very  bad  to  you." 

She  certainly  had  paid  me  off,  and  to 
boot,  for  my  earlier  speech.  And  the 
nasty  thing  about  it  was  that  any  at- 
tempt to  answer  her  would  look  as  if  I 
felt  there  was  truth  in  her  speech,  which 
was  really  ridiculous.  Though  I  live  with 
my  mother,  my  friends  know  who  is  the 
real  master  of  the  house. 

"  Any  one  living  with  a  Cortelyou  wo- 
man must  confess  her  superiority,"  I  re- 
sponded, bowing  deferentially. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head  know- 
ingly. "  People  say  that  she  spoils  you. 
Now  I  see  how  you  compass  it." 

"  We  have  only  exchanged  Ibsen  for 
Mrs.  Grundy,"  I  complained. 


124         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

" '  Excelsior '  is  a  good  rule,"  announced 
Kate. 

"  That 's  what  you  '11  be  doing  in  a 
moment,"  said  I,  trying  to  look  doleful, 
for  we  were  eating  the  game  course. 

"  How  well  you  act  it ! "  replied  Kate. 
"  You  ought  to  go  on  the  stage.  What  a 
pity  that  you  should  waste  your  time  on 
clubs  and  afternoon  teas  ! " 

"  Look  here,"  I  protested,  "  I  've  done 
my  best  all  through  dinner,  considering 
my  Cortelyou  temper,  and  now,  just  be- 
cause it's  so  nearly  over  that  you  don't 
need  me  any  longer  is  no  reason  for  mak- 
ing such  speeches.  I  don't  go  to  my 
club  once  a  week,  and  I  despise  afternoon 
teas." 

"  That  sampler  has  become  positively 
threadbare,"  retorted  Kate.  "  I  really  think 
it  must  be  worked  in  worsted,  and  hung 
up  in  all  the  New  York  clubs,  like  '  God 
bless  our  home  ! '  and  *  Merry  Christmas !" 

"  I  much  prefer  hearts  to  clubs,  for  a 
steady  trump,"  I  remarked. 

"  You  play  billiards,  I  presume  ?  " 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          125 

"  Yes,"  I  innocently  replied. 

"  What 's  your  average  run  ? " 

It  was  a  tempting  bait  she  shoved 
under  my  nose,  but  I  realised  the  trap, 
and  was  too  wary  to  be  caught.  "  Oh, 
four,  when  I  'm  in  good  form." 

"Really?" 

"  Really."  I  did  not  choose  to  add  that 
I  was  talking  of  the  balk-line  game,  not 
caring  to  be  too  technical  with  a  woman. 

"  That 's  very  curious  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  suppose  some  devoted  friend  of  mine 
has  told  you  I  'rn  only  a  billiard-marker  ?  " 
I  inquired. 

"No  —  but  —  " 

"  But  ? " 

"Nothing." 

"  George  Washington  became  President 
by  always  telling  the  truth." 

"  That 's  the  advantage  of  being  a  wo- 
man," replied  Kate.  "We  don't  have  to 
scheme  and  plot  and  crawl  for  the  Presi- 
dency." 

"  How  about  spring  bonnets  ?  "  I  mildly 
insinuated. 


126          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  Does  your  mother  have  a  very  bad 
time  persuading  you  to  pay  for  hers  ? " 
laughed  Kate,  mischievously. 

I  did  n't  like  the  question,  though  I 
knew  she  was  only  teasing,  so  I  recurred 
to  my  question.  "  You  have  n't  told  me 
what  that  '  nothing '  was,"  I  persisted. 

"  I  ought  n't,"  urged  Kate. 

"  Then  I  know  you  will,"  I  said  confi- 
dently. 

"  Well,  Seymour  Halsey  said  to  Weedon 
the  other  night,  '  I  wish  you  could  play 
with  Jack  Pellew,  so  as  to  knock  some  of 
his  airs  out  of  him  ! ' 

"Why,"  I  ejaculated,  "I  could  play 
cushion  caroms  against  your  brother's 
straight  game  and  beat  him  then ! " 

"  I  never  did  believe  that  story  about 
George  Washington,"  asserted  Kate,  with 
a  singular  want  of  relevance. 

"  No  woman  could,"  I  answered,  squar- 
ing accounts  promptly. 

Here  I  saw  the  little  preliminary  flutter 
among  the  ladies,  and  knowing  that  I 
should  never  speak  to  Kate  again,  I  said : 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          1 27 

"  Miss  Cortelyou,  I  'm  afraid  an  unkind 
remark  of  mine  a  little  while  ago  gave  you 
pain.  You  Ve  probably  forgotten  it  al- 
ready, but  I  never  shall  cease  to  regret  I 
made  it." 

"  Don't  think  of  it  again,"  she  replied, 
kindly,  as  she  rose.  "  And  thank  you  for 
a  pleasant  evening." 

"  Don't  blame  me  for  that,"  I  pleaded 
hastily.  "  It  was  your  own  fault." 

"  Not  entirely,"  denied  Kate.  "  We  did 
it  so  well  that  I  'm  prouder  than  ever  of 
the  family." 

"  I  decline  to  share  this  honour  with 
my  grandfather,"  I  protested  indignantly. 
"  He  could  n't  keep  his  temper,  bother 
him  ! " 

We  were  at  the  door  now,  and  Kate 
gave  me  the  prettiest  of  parting  nods  and 
smiles. 

"  Was  n't  it  a  pity  ?  "  she  sighed.  That 
was  distinctly  nice  of  her.  Just  like  a 
Cortelyou  woman. 

"Whew!  Jack,"  whistled  Ferdie  Gal- 
laudet.  "  I  thought  I  should  die,  and 


128          Tattle  Tales  of  Cupid 

expected  to  sit  on  your  body  at  the  post- 
mortem."    Ferdie  thinks  he's  clever! 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Ferdie,"  I  growled,  drop- 
ping back  into  my  seat. 

"  Don't  wonder  your  temper  's  queered," 
persisted  the  little  ass.  "'WotineH'  did 
you  talk  about  ?  " 

"  Family  matters,"  I  muttered. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  that 's  a  bit  shiny  at  the 
joints.  It  was  too  well  done  to  have 
verged  on  that  subject." 

"  We  talked  family  matters,  and  enjoyed 
it,"  I  insisted. 

"Ever  hear  of  George  Washington?" 
inquired  Ferdie. 

"  Kate  mentioned  him  to  me  to-night, 
and  I  promised  to  put  him  up  at  the 
Knickerbocker  for  a  month." 

"  Kate  ! "  exclaimed  Ferdie. 

I  lighted  my  cigar. 

"  Kate !  "  he  repeated,  with  a  rising  in- 
flection. "  Now  look  here,  I  was  n't  born 
yesterday." 

"  Where 's  your  family  Bible  ?  "  I  in- 
quired blandly. 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          129 

"  You  '11  be  saying  next  that  to-night's 
arrangement  was  by  '  special  request.' ' 

"  You  were  across  the  table,"  I  retorted. 
"  Draw  your  own  conclusions." 

"  I  suppose  you  '11  join  her  later,"  sug- 
gested Ferdie,  in  an  irritating  manner. 

I  would  n't  be  bluffed  by  him,  so  I  re- 
plied pointedly,  "  I  may,  to  save  her  from 
worse." 

"  Give  you  odds  on  it,"  offered  Ferdie. 

"  I  don't  make  bets  where  women  are 
concerned,"  I  crushingly  responded. 

"  Sorry  the  strain  has  left  you  so  bad- 
tempered,"  said  Ferdie,  rising.  "  There  's 
Caldwell  beckoning  to  me.  Ta,  ta  !  " 

I  have  liked  Caldwell  ever  since. 

When  we  joined  the  ladies  I  went  over 
to  Kate. 

"  This  is  persecution,"  she  smilingly  pro- 
tested, as  she  made  room  for  me  on  the  sofa. 

"  I  know  it,"  I  cheerfully  groaned,  as  I 
sat  down  beside  her.  "  But  I  had  to  for 
the  sake  of  the  family." 

"  A  family  is  a  terrible  thing  to  live  up 
to !  "  sighed  Kate. 


130          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  Terrible  !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"  Fortunately  it  will  only  be  for  a  mo- 
ment," she  assured  me. 

"  If  you  go  at  once,"  I  urged,  "  they  '11 
all  think  it 's  the  feud." 

"  What  a  nuisance  ! "  cried  Kate.  "  I 
ought  to  be  on  my  way  to  a  musical  this 
very  minute." 

"  On  the  principle  that  music  hath 
charms  ?  "  I  queried. 

"  Good-night !  "  she  said,  holding  out 
her  hand.  I  had  already  noticed  what 
pretty  hands  Kate  had. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  I  begged. 

"  Never !  "  she  replied. 

"  You  are  serious  ? "  I  questioned,  and 
she  understood  what  I  meant  as  if  I  had 
said  it.  I  do  like  people  who  can  read 
between  the  lines! 

She  amended  her  "  never  "  to,  "  Well, 
not  till  I  have  had  my  chance  to  even  the 
score." 

"  Take  it  now." 

"  I  have  n't  time." 

*  I  will  submit  to  anything." 


The  Cortelyou  Feud          131 

"  My  revenge  must  be  deep." 

"  I  will  do  the  thing  I  most  hate." 

"  Even  afternoon  teas  ?  "  laughed  Kate, 

archly. 

I    faltered    in   voice    while   promising, 

"  Even  afternoon  teas  !  " 

"  Then  I  '11  send  you  a  card  for  mine," 

she    ended,   and    left    me,    crushed    and 

hopeless. 

• 
*  * 

No.  That  didn't  end  the  feud.  It 
only  led  to  a  truce.  For  a  time  things 
went  very  well,  but  then  the  quarrel  broke 
out  with  renewed  force.  You  see,  Kate 
claimed  I  spoiled  the  boy,  and  I  claimed 
she  did  the  spoiling.  So  we  submitted  it 
to  arbitration.  My  mother  said  Kate  was 
very  judicious,  and  her  father  declared  I 
was  a  model  parent.  Then  we  called  in 
his  godmother,  and  she  decided  we  all 
four  spoiled  him.  It 's  been  open  war 
ever  since,  with  an  occasional  brief  cessa- 
tion of  hostilities  whenever  Kate  kisses 
me.  After  the  boy 's  grown  up,  I  suppose, 
peace  will  come  again. 


132          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

His  godmother  ?  Oh !  Mrs.  Baxter. 
You  see,  we  could  n't  do  less,  for  she  had 
talked  it  all  over  town  that  the  match  was 
of  her  making.  Her  making !  In  ten 
cases  out  of  nine  she  would  have  had  a 
disrupted  dinner.  It 's  lucky  for  her  that 
'Kate  was  a  Cortelyou  woman ! 


"THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS" 
AS  ENACTED 

IN 

Two  Social  Cups  of  Tea, 

Two  Social  Jokes,  and 

One  Social  Agony. 


SCENE 

Parlour  in  country  house  of  Mrs.  Wycherly. 

CHARACTERS 

MRS.  WYCHERLY,  LORD  FERROL, 

Miss  HELEN  WYCHERLY,         GEORGE  HAROLD, 
Miss  ROSE  NEWCOME,  STEVEN  HAROLD, 

Miss  AMY  SHERMAN,  DENNIS  GRANT. 

SYLLABUS 

ACT  I 

A  cup  of  tea  and  two  social  jokes. 
5.30  P.  M.  Friday. 

ACT  II 

A  cup  of  tea  and  one  social  agony. 
5.30  P.  M.  Tuesday. 


ACT   I 

SCENE.  —  Parlour  in  country  house  with  doors  r. 
and  I.  At  back,  a  fireplace  with  open  fire. 
Down  centre  /.,  a  small  table,  with  while  blot- 
ting-pad, large  paper-knife,  and  writing  para- 
phernalia ;  and  two  cliairs  r.  and  I.  Down 
centre  r.,  a  small  table  witJi  tea-service,  and 
chair  r.  At  extreme  r.  two  easy-chairs. 

MRS.  WYCHERLY  sits  at  writing-desk  r. 
with  teacup  on  table,  reading  a  letter  in  her 
hand.  AMY  sits  at  desk  I.  HELEN  at  tea- 
table,  making  tea.  STEVEN  at  mantel.  GEORGE 
and  DENNIS  seated  at  r.  with  teacups. 

Helen.     Another  cup,  mama? 

Steven.     She  does  n't  hear  you,  Helen. 

George.     Thanks  to  his  precious  letter. 

Helen  (louder).     More  tea,  mama ! 

Rose  (outside  /.,  calling).  Are  you  hav- 
ing tea,  Helen  ? 

Helen      Yes,  Rose. 

Amy.  And  something  very  exciting  as 
well. 

George.  More  exciting  even  than  your 
novel,  1 11  be  bound. 


I  36          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Dennis  (calling).  Bring  the  chocolates 
with  you,  if  you  haven't  eaten  them  all. 

Enter    ROSE,  /.,  with  box  of  chocolates  and 
book. 

Rose.     What  is  it  ? 

Dennis.     Ask  Mrs.  Wycherly. 

Rose.  What  is  the  excitement,  Mrs. 
Wycherly  ? 

George.     Louder. 

Amy  (loudly).     Mrs.  Wycherly  ! 

Mrs.  W.  (starting}.     Oh!     What? 

George.  That  is  just  the  problem.  Is 
he  a  what,  or  is  n't  he  ? 

Dennis  (bitterly}.  I  don't  believe  it  will 
make  the  least  difference  even  if  he  proves 
a  "  What  is  it." 

Steven  (more  bitterly).  No,  we  fellows 
see  how  it  will  be  !  The  moment  "  me  lud  " 
arrives,  we  shall  be  nowhere  with  you  girls. 

George.  George  Augustus  Guelph  Dun- 
stan,  Earl  of  Ferrol  and  Staunton!  His 
very  letter  of  acceptance  has  made  Helen 
forget  that  it  is  cream  —  not  sugar —  that 
I  "  omit  for  want  of  space." 


The  Best  Laid  Plans  137 

Helen.  Not  at  ?.ll !  If  you  had  been 
polite  you  would  have  given  that  cup  to 
Rose.  As  for  his  lordling,  do  you  for  an 
instant  suppose  that  I  intend  to  compete 
as  long  as  Rose  and  Amy  are  here  ?  No, 
sir —  I  leave  him  to  my  betters,  D.  V. 

Mrs.  W.  Well,  really,  I  don't  think 
that  either  his  titles  or  his  being  in  the 
hands  of  an  oculist  is  any  excuse  for 
making  his  time  so  indefinite  ( ~noks  at 
letter).  He  will  be  charmed  to  pay  me  a 
visit,  "  by  next  Friday,  or  perhaps  even 
sooner."  Now  is  n't  that  a  nice  position  to 
leave  a  hostess  who  wishes  to  make  his 
stay  quite  as  pleasant  as  his  papa  made 
mine  when  I  was  at  the  "  Towers."  Imagine 
this  betitled  being  getting  into  the  Junction 
by  the  evening  train  and  then  having  to 
walk  over  to  Beechcroft. 

Rose.  Oh,  would  n't  it  be  lovely  to  see 
him  coming  in  at  the  gate,  so  wet  and 
muddy  that  Tiger  would  make  the  same 
mistake  that  he  did  with  that  poor  min- 
ister ? 

Dennis.     I  hope,  if  he  does  have  to  foot 


138          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

it,  he  will  not  bring  the  usual  number  of 
parcels  that  the  swells  on  the  other  side 
consider  as  necessary  as  those  books  which 
Charlie  Lamb  said  "  no  gentleman  should 
be  without." 

Amy.  Mrs.  Wycherly,  how  can  this 
man  be  two  earls  at  once  ? 

Steven.  The  English  aristocracy  finds 
it  convenient  to  have  an  alias  now  and 
again. 

Mrs.  W.  I  'm  not  sure,  Amy,  but  I  be- 
lieve it  has  something  to  do  with  his 
mother.  I  never  could  understand  the 
peerage. 

George.  Ye  gods !  to  think  of  a  mother 
with  a  marriageable  daughter  not  under- 
standing the  peerage ! 

Helen.  I  won't  be  slandered  by  you. 
Marriageable  daughter,  indeed ! 

Rose  {scornfully}.  Yes,  is  n't  that  a  reg- 
ular man's  view  of  it  ? 

Dennis.  Well,  I  think  it 's  very  credit- 
able to  be  without  a  peer. 

Amy.  That  depends  on  how  you  ap- 
pear. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          139 

Rose.  And  that  depends  on  your  ap- 
pear age. 

George  {pityingly}.  Don't  notice  them  ; 
they're  quite  harmless.  Speaking  of  the 
peerage,  though,  did  any  of  you  see  Labou- 
chere's  screed  in  "  Truth  "  ? 

Mrs.  W.  I  haven't,  for  one  —  what 
was  it? 

George.  Bass,  the  proprietor  of  the 
pale  ale,  has  just  been  made  a  baron,  and 
this  was  an  editorial  on  the  "  Last  Addition 
to  the  Beerage." 

Amy.  Mrs.  Wycherly,  do  let  me  have 
the  letter :  I  want  to  see  what  kind  of  a 
hand  he  writes. 

[MRS.  \V ' .  passes  letter  to  AMY. 

Dennis.  There !  That 's  the  way  in  this 
life.  I  '11  be  bound  you  never  wanted  to 
see  what  my  writing  was  like. 

Rose.  Well,  did  you  ever  want  to  see 
Amy's  hand  ? 

Steven.  Hers  is  too  small  to  make  it 
worth  while. 

Amy  (sweetly).  Is  your  tea  sweet 
enough,  Steven  ? 


140          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Dennis.  Why  waste  your  sweetness  on 
the  desert  air  ? 

Steven.  Thank  you,  Dennis,  but  I  am 
not  a  deserted  heir,  and  don't  suppose  I 
shall  be,  till  The  Right  Honourable 
George  Augustus  Guelph  Dunstan,  Earl 
of  Ferrol  and  Staunton,  puts  in  his  ap- 
pearance. Till  then,  Mrs.  Amy  Sherman 
Micawber  will  never  desert  her  Steven. 

Helen.  Really,  I  think  it  is  very  un- 
kind to  say  all  these  things  before  Lord 
Ferrol  arrives.  If  you  begin  like  this  over 
the  "cheerful  and  uninebriating  teacup," 
with  a  good  dinner  not  far  distant,  what 
will  you  say  when  you  have  just  dragged 
yourself  out  of  bed  to  breakfast? 

Dennis  (fiercely}.  The  talking  point 
will  be  passed.  We  shall  act !  Bul-lud ! ! ! 

George  (rising  and  setting  teacup  on  tea- 
table}.  So  let  it  be  understood,  if  you 
girls  give  us  the  cold  shoulder  when  his 
lordship  arrives,  we  will  not  be  responsi- 
ble for  the  consequences. 

Steven.  But  don't  say  we  did  n't  warn 
you. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans  141 

Helen.  Well,  you  deserve  to  have  the 
cold  shoulder  for  talking  to  us  so. 

Rose.  Yes,  just  as  if  we  had  all  turned 
tuft-hunters. 

Mrs.  W.  At  least  it  shows  modesty. 
The  boys  all  take  for  granted  they  can- 
not  stand  up  against  the  ne\v-comer. 

Rose.  Oh,  Mrs.  Wycherly,  what  nice, 
honest,  guileless  men  you  must  have 
known  when  you  were  a  girl !  To  think 
that  these  should  gain  the  reputation  of 
modesty  by  their  grumbling ! 

Helen.  Yes,  dear,  they  are  delusions 
and  snares,  having  fully  mastered  Talley- 
rand's aphorism  "  that  words  were  meant 
to  conceal  ideas." 

Amy.  "  Put  not  your  trust  in  kings 
and  princes." 

George.  That 's  just  what  we  want,  only 
please  extend  it  to  the  aristocracy. 

Rose.  You  all  deserve  to  have  us  leave 
you  to  your  own  devices,  as  soon  as  we 
can  get  a  decent  substitute. 

Mrs.  W.  Well,  if  Lord  Ferrol  is  any- 
thing like  his  father,  I  can  promise  you  no 


142         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

unworthy  one,  even  compared  to  my  boys 
here. 

Steven  (crossing  down  stage  to  Mrs. 
W.  and  bowing).  Mrs.  Wycherly,  the 
race  does  not  improve.  Why  are  the 
daughters  no  longer  as  their  mothers 
were  ? 

Helen.  \ 

Amy.    Loh!!! 

Rose.    J 

Helen  (springing  to  her  feet).  Mr. 
Chairman,  or  Mrs.  Chairwoman,  is  not 
the  honourable  gentleman's  language  un- 
parliamentary ? 

Rose.  It 's  uncomplimentary,  and  I 
believe  that  is  what  unparliamentary 
generally  means. 

Amy  (rising).  I  move  the  expulsion  of 
the  honourable  gentleman. 

Helen    (rising).      Second    the    motion. 

Omnes.     Question!  Question!  Question! 

Mrs.  W.  (rising  with  mock  solemnity 
and  leaning  on  desk).  Gentlemen,  aftei 
the  most  mature  deliberation  the  speakei 
must  announce  three  decisions.  First, 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          143 

the  language  was  not  uncomplimentary, 
and  — 

Rose  \  \  Bribery  ! 

Helen  >  together.  V  Treachery,  treachery  ! 

Amy  J  J  Oh!   Oh!   Oh!! 

Mrs.  W.  (pounding  on  table  with  paper- 
knife}.  Order !  Order !  —  And  ergo,  not 
unparliamentary.  Secondly,  that  in  con- 
sequence the  motion  of  expulsion  is  not 
in  order.  Thirdly,  even  if  it  were  in 
order,  the  question  could  not  be  taken 
without  debate. 

Rose.     I  appeal  to  the  House. 

Dennis  (rising].  All  right !  Three  to 
three.  Speaker  throws  casting  vote  with 
us.  How  do  you  do  —  minority  ?  [Bows. 

Helen  (rising}.  Excuse  me.  We  three 
decline  to  vote,  so  there  is  no  quorum. 
The  question  is  before  the  House  still, 
and  can  be  spoken  to. 

Dennis.  How  badly  the  question  must 
feel. 

Amy.     Not  half  so  badly  as  you  ought  to. 

Mrs.  W.  (pounding].  Order !  The  dig- 
nity of  the  chair  must  be  upheld ! 


144         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Rose.  Then  why  don't  you  hold  it  up  ? 
We  Ve  no  objection. 

Amy  (rising).     Mr.  Speaker  — 

Mrs.  W.     The      honourable     member 
from  —  from  — 

George.     Philadelphia  ? 

\_Passes   AMY   the   chocolates  from 
tea-table. 

Amy  (sinking  faintly  into  chair).  Oh, 
not  so  bad  as  that! 

Mrs.  W.  Very  well  —  from  the  slough 
of  despair  — 

Amy.  Mr.  Speaker,  I  rise  from  my 
slough  of  despair  to  demand,  with  a  tear 
in  my  eye  — 

Dennis.  And  a  chocolate  in  your 
mouth  — 

Mrs.  W.  (pounds}.     Order!  — 

Amy.     To  vindicate  myself  — 

George.  Well,  if  you  're  going  to  rise, 
why  don't  you  do  it  ? 

Mrs.  W.  (crossing  to  tea-table,  and  seizing 
hot  water  pot}  I  shall  pour  the  hot  water 
on  the  next  person  who  interrupts  the 
honourable  gentleman. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          145 

Amy.  To  vindicate  myself  and  my 
compeers  in  the  — alas !  —  opposition.  We 
have  remained  silent  under  the  slur  of 
malice  —  we  have  watched  the  arbitrary 
and  —  (I  fear  corrupt  is  an  unparliamentary 
word)  —  ah  —  questionable  rulings  of  the 
presiding  officer.  But,  so  saith  the  adage, 
"  Even  the  worm  will  turn  ;  "  and  why  not 
woman  ?  So  when  we  hear  the  distin- 
guished and  courteous  stranger,  about  to 
enter  our  sacred  portals,  maligned  and 
sneered  at  —  then  —  then  do  we  turn  upon 
the  "  allegators  "  and  declare,  that  as  soon 
as  the  shadow  of  his  "  gracious  "  —  no  —  I 
mean  "  early  "  presence  darkens  these  halls 
of  misrule,  then,  with  one  accord,  for  better, 
for  worse,  we  will  cleave  to  him. 

Feminine  Omnes.     We  will. 

Rose.  Now,  boys,  you  see  what  you 
have  done  !  and,  as  you  remarked  a  mo- 
ment ago,  "  Don't  say  we  did  n't  warn  you." 

\_Bell  rings. 

Mrs.  W.  There,  young  people,  —  that 
is  the  dressing  bell.  Now  don't  loiter,  for 
I  shall  frown  on  any  one  who  is  not  in  the 


10 


146          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

drawing-room  five  minutes  before  seven. 
I  declare  this  sitting  adjourned. 

\A  II  rise.     MRS.  W.  crosses  back  and 
exits  r.  d.     ROSE  comes  down  c. 
and  whispers  to  AMY  ;  they  laugh, 
put  their  hands  behind  eacJi  other  s 
waists,  and  skip  iip  r. 
Rose  and  Amy  (singing].     "  Johnny,  get 
your  gun,  get  your  sword,  get  your  pistol. 
Johnny,  get  your  gun,  get  your  gun,  get 
your  gun." 

\Exit  r.  d.     Men  all  laugh  heartily. 
Helen  (rapping  on  table  in  imitation  of 
Mrs.  W.).     Order!  Order! 
George.     Cash ! 

\_Men  all  laugh.     HELEN  looks  at 

them   scornfully    and  then   exits 

r.  d.     DENNIS  starts  to  follow. 

George.     What's  your  hurry,  Dennis? 

Lots  jpf  time.  \Sits. 

Steven  (reseating  himself}.     I  bless  my 

governing  star   every    night   that   it   was 

given   to    my   sex   to   dress   in   the    time 

spent  by  t'otherest  in  doing  up  its  back 

hair. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          147 

Dennis  (crossing  back  to  fireplace).  Oh, 
yes !  But  as  one  girl  said  to  me,  "  That 
time  is  n't  worth  having,  for  you  can't  be 
with  us  ! " 

George.  You  must  both  have  been 
pretty  far  gone,  old  fellow. 

Dennis.  Not  half  so  badly  as  the  girls 
are  prospectively  on  "me  hid." 

Steven.  No,  we  are  in  for  "a  bad  quarter 
of  an  hour  "  when  he  shows  up. 

Dennis.     If  he  will  only  prove  a  show ! 

Steven  (sadly}.  The  only  English  swells 
I  Ve  met  were  very  jolly,  gentlemanly 
fellows. 

Dennis  (cheerfully}.  All  the  more  chance 
that  this  one  turns  out  the  delicate  little 
wood  violet,  such  as  we  occasionally  read 
of  in  the  papers  as  ornamenting  the 
"  Ouse  of  Lords." 

George  (gloomily).  I  am  afraid  wjp  shall 
be  the  flower  part  of  this  show. 

Dennis.     In  what  respect  ? 

George.     Why,  wall  flowers,  of  course. 

Steven.  Really,  it's  no  joking  matter. 
I  don't  know  how  long  the  girls  will  carry 


148          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

on  their  intended  neglect,  but  it  will  be 
strong  while  it  lasts. 

Dennis  (coming  down  stage  indignantly], 
If  I  have  to  put  in  two  days  of  life  without 
—  without  — 

Steven,  (interrupting}.  Faith,  hope,  or 
charity,  which  ? 

George.  Why  don't  you  say  Amy,  and 
have  done  with  it  ? 

Dennis  (half  turning].  Very  well.  If 
I  have  to  put  in  a  week  here,  ten  miles 
from  anything,  with  Amy  overflowing  with 
sweetness  for  that  —  that  —  [Hesitates. 

George.  Oh,  speak  it  out,  old  man  !  The 
word  will  do  you  good. 

Dennis.  No,  it  would  n't  do  justice  to 
the  subject. 

Steven.  Well,  Dennis,  you  need  n't 
think  you  're  the  only  one  in  this  box. 

Dennis.  Hope  he'll  get  here  on  a 
rainy  night,  and  no  carriage  at  the  station, 
as  Rose  suggested.  Do  you  suppose  a 
fiver  would  make  our  dearly  beloved  Bur- 
gess misunderstand  the  carriage  order  ? 

George.     Burgess   is   a  living   proof   of 


The  Best  Laid  Plans         149 

the    saying,     that   "  every    man    has    his 
price." 

Steven.  How  do  you  know  ? 
George.  I  found  it  out  when  he  drove 
Mrs.  Wycherly  home,  quite  forgetting  to 
say  that  Rose  and  I  were  to  be  picked 
up  at  Oakridge,  as  she  had  specially 
directed. 

Steven  (reprovingly]. 

"  You  sockin'  old  fox  ! 
You  pretty  white  cat — 
I  sink  dear  mama 
Should  be  told  about  dat." 

Dennis  (sadly).  It  might  be  possible 
to  corrupt  the  worthy  Burgess,  but,  unless 
we  could  arrange  for  a  rainy  day,  I  don't 
see  that  it  would  do  us  much  good.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  does  n't  think  much  of  ten 
miles. 

Steven.  No;  and  the  Wycherlys  would 
be  so  hurt  at  a  guest  of  theirs  having  such 
an  accident  that  they  would  be  doubly 
sweet  to  him. 

Dennis.  What  day  did  he  say  he  would 
come? 


150         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Steven.     "  Friday,  or   perhaps   sooner." 

George.  I  suppose  the  "  D.  &  T."  can  't 
arrange  one  of  their  numerous  accidents 
for  that  train? 

Dennis  (crossly).  Of  course  not !  Who- 
ever heard  of  a  timely  railroad  disaster? 

George.     Oh,  for  a  mishap  of  some  kind ! 

Steven  (springing  to  his  feet  and  slap- 
ping his  leg].  Fellows,  I  have  an  inspira- 
tion ! 

George.  Did  you  get  it  by  inheritance, 
or  out  of  a  bottle  ? 

Steven.  Look  here ;  his  ludship  does 
not  arrive,  probably,  till  Friday.  My 
friend,  Frank  Parker,  is  to  come  up  here 
Tuesday.  Let's  make  him  personate  the 
"  Lord  high  everything  else." 

George  )  .     ( Well  ? 

Dennis]  tOSether\ What  for? 

\_Both  rise  and  come  down  stage  to 
STEVEN. 

Steven.  Why,  in  the  first  place,  we 
shall  fool  the  girls.  That  's  one  for  us ! 
In  the  second  place,  they'll  carry  out 
their  tender  programme  on  him,  and  so  be 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          151 

tired  of  it  when  the  "  only  genuine  has  our 
name  blown  in  the  bottle  "  puts  in  his  ap- 
pearance. That 's  two  for  us  !  Thirdly 
and  lastly,  we  will  tell  him  to  be  a  snob, 
so  that  the  girls  will  find  it  impossible  to 
carry  out  their  plans  on  him.  That 's  three 
for  us! 

Dennis.  But  will  Parker  dare  to  play 
s>uch  a  trick  in  his  first  visit  ?  Would  n't 
he  be  like  those  would-be  tragedians  whose 
first  and  last  appearances  are  identical? 

Steven.  Oh,  Mrs.  Wycherly  would  for- 
give him  anything,  for  he  is  the  son  of  an 
old  sweetheart  of  hers.  As  for  Frank, 
he  's  up  to  anything,  and  has  lived  so  long 
in  the  West  that  his  highest  form  of  amuse- 
ment is  a  practical  joke. 

Dennis.  But  how  are  you  going  to  fool 
our  hostess  ? 

George.  Why,  she  has  never  seen 
Frank,  and  only  heard  of  his  existence 
when  Steven  and  I  brought  word  of  the 
jolly  fellow  we  had  met  in  Colorado. 

Steven.  And,  besides,  he  's  a  winner  in 
disguising  his  person  and  voice.  George 


152          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

and  I  coached  all  one  day,  lamenting  that 
he  had  been  left  behind,  and  there  he  was, 
sitting  beside  the  driver  all  the  time.  Now 
to  the  act ! 

[Goes  to  writing-table^  and  writes. 
After  writing  a  page,  he  blots  it  on 
blotter  and  turns  over  and  writes 
on  second  sheet. 

Dennis.  If  it  works  I  don't  go  back  to 
the  city  by  a  long  sight.  The  governor 
may  go  it  alone  till  I  have  seen  the  fun. 

George  (rising  and  imitating  English 
accent  and  using  his  watch  as  an  eye-glass]. 
I  say,  Steve,  cawnt  he  make  the  heavy 
English  noticeable  ? 

Dennis.  Yes;  tell  him  to  come  out 
strong  on  that. 

George.  And  remember  he 's  in  the 
hands  of  an  oculist,  doncher  know.  That 
will  be  a  good  excuse  for  goggles. 

Dennis.  Tell  him  we  '11  share  the  ex- 
pense if  he  will  only  come. 

Steven.     What  was  his  third  name  ? 

George.  George  Augustus  Guelph  Dun- 
stan — otherwise  Dust-pan. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          153 

Dennis.     When  is  an  earl  a  small  thing? 

George   (with   disgust}.      He    never    is, 
when    he 's    in    this    country. 

Dennis.     You     never    could    guess    a 
conundrum ! 

George.     Give  it  up,  old  man. 

Dennis.     When  he  's  a  little  early. 

George.  Hurry  up,  Steve.  Dennis  is 
in  sad  need  of  dinner. 

Steven    (reading   letter}.     How 's    this  ? 

"  Dear  Frank,  —  We  hear  you  are  to 
come  up  here  on  Tuesday.  Now,  if  you 
want  a  soft  thing  pay  heed  to  what  I  write. 
We  expect  a  howling  English  Lord  up  here 
the  last  of  the  week,  and  the  girls  are  going 
to  lay  themselves  out  for  his  benefit,  just  to 
spite  us  poor  republicans.  Put  on  goggles, 
a  beard  and  wig;  get  a  big  pattern  suit 
and  a  leather  hat-box,  and  telegraph  Mrs. 
\Yycherly  (in  the  name  of  Ferrol),  that 
you  will  arrive  on  the  5.15  train  Tuesday. 
You  will  be  met,  coddled,  caressed,  etc. 
etc.,  till  we  shall  all  call  you  tenderfoot. 
But  a  word  in  your  ear!  Make  yourself 
rather  disagreeable.  Dress  in  the  wrong 


154         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

clothes  at  meals.  Use  the  words 'nasty' 
and  'beastly  '  frequently,  and  of  all  things 
meet  the  girls  more  than  half-way  in  their 
attentions.  Your  name  is  George  Au- 
gustus Guelph  Dunstan,  Earl  of  Ferrol 
and  Staunton.  Your  family  name  is 
D-a-c-h-a-n-t  (pronounced  Jaunt).  Your 
dear  mama  is  no  more.  You  have  been  in 
Florida,  where  you  hurt  your  eyes,  and  are 
just  from  Washington  — '  a  beastly  bore, 
you  know.'  I  would  give  untold  gold  if  I 
could  do  it  instead  of  you. 

"  Always  yours,  STEVE." 

Dennis.  I  say,  boys,  we  must  have  a 
kodak  ready  for  the  unveiling,  and  catch 
the  girls'  faces  on  the  fly. 

George    ~\  (together,  shaking  hands   and 

Steven     \  laughing  heartily}.    Oh  !  won't 

Dennis  )  it  be  rich  ! 

Enter  ROSE,  r.  d. 

Rose  (crossing  iip  stage  to  r.}.     Why,  you 
wretched  boys,  haven't  you  gone  up  yet? 
[Men  jump  and  turn  with  conster- 
nation. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          155 

Steven  (concealing  letter  beJiind  him). 
Why —  ah  —  is  it  late? 

Enter  HELEN,  r.  d.,  and  cresses  to  tea-table, 
which  she  draws  back  to  I. 

Rose.  Late!  You  Ve  just  ten  minutes 
to  dress.  Be  quick  !  Mrs.  Wycherly  has 
been  stopped  in  the  hall  by  a  telegram, 
and  if  she  catches  you  here  you  '11  never 
hear  the  last  of  it. 

\J\4en  exit  hurriedly  and  awkwardly  I.  d. 

Helen.  Talk  of  the  tardiness  of 
women ! 

Rose.  I  know  they  Ve  been  talking 
about  us.  Did  you  see  how  guilty  they 
looked  ?  [Crosses  to  desk. 

Enter  AMY,  r.  d. 

Amy.  After  what  Mrs.  Wycherly  said' 
of  tardiness,  they  ought  to  look  guilty. 

Rose  {seating  herself  at  desk  and  arrang- 
ing pens,  etc.).  If  they  are  not  late,  it's 
Seymour's  fault,  not  theirs. 

Helen.  I  hope  mama  won't  wait  for 
them.  I  have  a  good  mind  to  tell  Sey- 
mour to  put  a  lump  of  ice  in  the  soup. 


156          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Amy.  I  should  rather  see  those  good 
for-nothing,  gossiping,  over-spoiled  men 

there. 

\_Rose   begins  to  study  blotter  with 
great  interest. 

Helen.  They  deserve  some  kind  of 
penance  for  their  behaviour  this  after- 
noon. 

Amy.  Yes,  even  in  addition  to  our 
intended  neglect  when  Lord  Ferrol  ar- 
rives. 

Helen.  Oh,  we  can  make  it  a  capital 
joke,  and  if  Lord  Ferrol  is  only  nice 
we  can  have  both  the  joke  and  a  good 
time. 

Amy,  Well,  I  don't  care  what  Lord 
Ferrol  is ;  I  am  going  to  use  him  to  pun- 
ish —  them. 

Helen.  Oh  !  Amy,  why  that  significant 
pause  ?  We  all  know  how  them  spells  his 
name. 

Rose  {springing  to  her  feet  with  a 
scream).  Girls  !  Girls ! ! 

Amy  (startled).     What's  the  matter? 

Rose   (melodramatically).      My    Lords! 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          157 

My  Lords !  There  are  traitors  in  the  camp 
and  treachery  stalks  rampant. 

\Comes  to  centre  with  blotter. 

Helen.     Oh,  come  off  that  roof ! 

Rose.     No,  really,  I  'm  in  dead  earnest 

Amy.     What  is  it,  Rose  ? 

Rose  (evidently  reading  with  difficulty 
from' blotter).  Listen.  "  Dear  Frank, —  We 
hear  you  are  to  come  up  here  on  Tuesday. 
Now,  if  you  want  a  soft  thing,  pay  heed 
to  what  I  write  — "  Oh,  I  can't  read  it 
backwards.  Where  is  a  mirror  ? 

Helen  (rushing  to  mantel}.    Here,  Here. 
[Holds  mirror  in  front  of  blotter. 

Rose  (reading).  "  We  are  expecting  a 
howling  English  Lord  up  here  the  last  of 
the  week,  and  the  girls  are  going  to  lay 
themselves  out  for  his  benefit." 

\  (with  intense  anger}.    What ! ! ! 
Amy  \  ^ 

Rose  (reading).  "  Just  to  spite  us  poor 
republicans.  Put  on  goggles,  a  beard  and 
wig ;  get  a  big  pattern  suit  and  a  leather 
hat-box.  Telegraph  Mrs.  Wycherly  (in  the 
name  of  Ferrol)  that  you  will  arrive  on 


158          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

the  5.15  train  Tuesday.     You  will  be  met, 
coddled,  CARESSED  ! ! 

\_Drops  blotter  in  rage. 

Amy  (shrieking}.     Oh  ! 

Helen  (intensely].  What !  !  (  Grabs  at 
blotter  eagerly)  Here,  you  read  too  slowly, 
let  me.  (Amy  holds  mirror^  "  Coddled, 
caressed,  till  we  shall  call  you  tenderfoot 
But  a  word  in  your  ear!  Make  yourself 
rather  disagreeable.  Dress  in  the  wrong 
clothes  at  meals.  Use  the  words  '  nasty ' 
and  '  beastly '  frequently,  and  of  all  things 
meet  the  girls  half-way  in  their  attentions. 
Your  name  is  George  Augustus  —  "  It 
ends  there. 

\_Girls  look  at  each  other  indignantly. 

Amy  (dangerously].     It  was  about  time ! 
\_Going  to  the  mantel  and  replacing 
mirror. 

Helen.     What  shall  we  do  ? 

Amy. 

"  And  he  said  can  this  be  ? 

We  are  ruined  by  Chinese  cheap  labour  (pause\ 

We  will  go  for  them  heathen  Chinee." 

Helen  (turning).     Yes !  —  but  how  ? 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          159 

Amy.  Girls,  put  on  your  thinking-caps, 
and  hunt  for  some  terrible  punishment. 

Rose.  Something  "  lingering,  with  boil- 
ing oil  or  melted  lead." 


Enter   MRS.    W.    r.  d.,    with   telegraph 
blank  in  hand. 

Mrs.  W.  Why,  girls,  what  were  those 
shrieks  about  ? 

Rose  (with  embarrassment}.  Oh,  noth- 
ing, Mrs.  Wycherly.  That  is  — 

Amy.  I  hope  we  did  n't  frighten  you, 
Mrs.  Wycherly. 

Mrs.  W.  Oh,  no  !  I  was  only  coming 
in  to  speak  to  Helen.  {Helen  comes  to 
centre.}  I  have  just  received  a  despatch 
from  Frank  Parker.  He  has  been  called 
back  to  San  Diego  by  the  illness  of  his 
mother,  so  we  shall  not  have  his  visit  after 
all.  {Hands  telegram  to  HELEN  and  sits  at 
desk  r.  ROSE  sits  at  desk  I.  HELEN  and 
AMY  cross  to  r.  and  evidently  consult  over 
telegram.}  I  really  am  very  sorry,  for  I 
wanted  to  renew  with  the  son  a  very  old 


160          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

family  friendship,  but  there  is  no  chance, 
for  he  has  gone  West  already. 

Helen  (crossing  to  Mrs.  W.  and  plead- 
ing}. Oh,  mama !  Will  you  not  keep  it 
a  secret  from  the  boys  ?  Only  George 
and  Steven  would  care,  and  we  have  a 
really  good  reason  for  not  wanting  them 
to  know.  Oh,  please,  mama ! 

\JPuts  arms  round  MRS.  W  's.  neck. 

Amy  (beseechingly].  Oh,  Mrs.  Wycherly, 
please  do  ! 

Rose  (kneeling  imploringly}.  Do,  Mrs. 
Wycherly  ! 

Mrs  W.  (suspiciously].  What  mischief 
are  you  concocting  now?  (rising  and 
going  to  L  d.,  followed  by  all  the  girls], 
Well,  I  won't  promise  not  to,  but  I  will 
hold  my  tongue  till  I  see  that  I  had  better 
speak. 

Helen.     Oh,  you  dear  mama  ! 

Mrs.  W.(laughing\  Temper  your  jus- 
tice with  mercy.  \_Exits  I.  d. 

Helen  (melodramatically  coming  down 
c.).  Who  talks  to  me  of  justice  and  mercy ! 

Rose.     Helen,     can't   you    arrange     to 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          161 

have  Burgess  drive  over  to  that  5.15 
train  ?  It  would  be  so  lovely  to  see  the 
men's  faces  when  the  carriage  came  back 
empty. 

Amy.  Gracious  !  If  we  only  could  get 
the  real  Ferrol  here,  in  place  of  the  ficti- 
tious, and  yet  make  the  men  think  it  was 
Mr.  Parker. 

Rose.  But  Lord  Ferrol  won't  be  here 
till  Friday,  and  by  that  time  the  boys  will 
have  either  found  it  out,  or  suspect  from 
the  time  that  it  really  is  the  genuine  article. 

Amy.  I  '11  tell  you  what  to  do.  Let 
me  wire  my  cousin  Jack  Williams  to  get 
himself  up  as  an  Englishman,  and  come 
up  here  on  Tuesday.  I  can  coach  him  so 
that  he  can  pass  himself  off  for  Mr.  Parker, 
and  the  two  are  enough  alike,  judging  from 
the  description,  if  disguised,  to  fool  the 
boys. 

Helen.  But  the  moment  they  were 
alone  with  him  they  would  find  — 

Rose  (interrupting}.  We  '11  arrange  it  so 
that  until  we  are  ready  for  developments, 
they  shall  have  no  chance  to  find  out- 


1 62          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Rose.  But  how  about  Mrs.  Wycherly  ? 
She  knows  Mr.  Williams,  does  n't  she  ? 

Amy.  We  '11  let  her  into  the  secret 
—  she'll  enjoy  it  as  much  as  any  of 
us. 

Helen.  And  she 's  always  wanted  to 
have  your  cousin  here. 

Rose.  Quick,  Amy.  Write  the  tele- 
gram. 

\_All  rush   to  desk.     AMY    sits   in 
chair  I. 

Helen.  Mercy!  but  you'll  ruin  your- 
self  with  such  a  one. 

Rose.  We  '11  have  to  share  the  ex- 
pense. 

Amy  (getting  paper  and  pencil}.  No, 
I  shall  only  send  a  short  despatch,  and 
write  full  particulars  by  letter.  Let  me 
see  —  (Aloud.)  "  Come  up  here  disguised 
as  an  Englishman  —  goggles,  beard,  wig, 
loud  clothes  —  " 

Rose.     And  hat-box. 

Amy.  "  And  hat-box,  by  the  train  that 
gets  here  ? — "  [Looks  at  HELEN  inquiringly. 

Helen.     Five  fifteen. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          163 

Amy.  "That  gets  here  at  5.15  Tues- 
day. Wire  Mrs.  Wycherly  in  name  of 
Ferrol  that  you  will  be  here  at  that  time. 
Further  particulars  by  post,  but  don't  fail. 
—  Amy."  \_jRzses  and  folds  telegram. 

Rose.  If  he  will  only  come  !  Think  of 
those  boys  watching  our  attention  to  him, 
and  laughing  in  their  sleeves. 

Rose.  And  we  all  the  time  laughing  at 
them. 

Helen.  And  think  of  their  faces  when 
the  discovery  is  made  ! 

Rose.  Oh,  Helen !  You  must  have 
your  camera  ready,  and  take  them  at  that 
moment.  \Alllaugh. 

CURTAIN 


164         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 


ACT    II 

SCENE.  —  Same  room,  and  same  arrangement ', 
except  that  tea-table  is  up  back  to  r.,  and  the 
easy-cliair  I.  is  down  centre.  MRS.  W.  sits 
chair  c.  sewing.  ROSE  sits  on  arm  of  easy- 
chair  r.  AMY  walking  up  and  down  at  back. 
HELEN  sits  chair  r.  of  fireplace. 

Amy  (restlessly}.  I  am  so  excited  I 
can't  keep  still.  If  Jack  had  n't  tele- 
graphed when  he  did,  I  could  never 
have  survived  the  nervous  strain  —  but 
were  n't  the  men's  faces  lovely  when  you 
read  the  dispatch  at  luncheon  !  Sly  dogs  ! 

Helen.  I  hope  it  will  take  the  boys  so 
long  to  clear  the  snow  off  Silverspoon 
that  we  can  have  your  cousin  alone  for  a 
few  minutes. 

Rose.  No  such  luck  as  that !  Our 
evening's  skating  will  hardly  weigh  with 
them,  compared  to  the  danger  of  our  greet- 
ing the  supposed  Mr.  Parker  without  their 
moral  support  to  carry  him  through. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          165 

Helen.  I  almost  wish  it  were  Mr. 
Parker  instead  of  Mr.  Williams  who  is 
coming.  How  we  could  torture  them  all 
by  awkward  questions  ! 

Rose.  I  don't  think  I  ever  appreciated 
before  how  deliciously  the  Indian  must 
feel  when  he  takes  his  enemy's  scalp. 

Mrs.  W.  Why,  you  blood-thirsty  little 
wretch ! 

Helen.  Mama,  we  must  make  our  ar- 
rangements so  that  they  will  have  no 
chance  to  interview  him  this  evening. 
Then,  to-morrow,  we  will  either  fully  coach 
him,  or  let  them  find  out  the  trick  —  ac- 
cording to  our  wishes. 

Mrs.  W.  Let  me  see,  —  I  will  meet 
him  at  the  front  door;  the  moment  the 
carriage  drives  up  — 

Helen.  Yes,  and  you  must  bring  him 
in  here  to  tea.  We  won't  let  him  go  till 
the  bell  rings  for  dressing.  Then  we  will 
all  see  him  upstairs. 

Mrs.  W.  But  you  can't  watch  him 
after  he  is  once  in  his  room,  and  any  of 
the  men  can  go  to  him. 


1 66          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Rose.  "  Not  if  the  court  understand 
himself,  and  he  thinks  he  do."  We  will 
spell  each  other,  so  that  one  of  us  shall 
sit  in  the  upper  hall  till  Mr.  Williams 
comes  downstairs.  The  boys  would 
never  dare  to  run  such  a  battery  without 
a  better  excuse  than  they  can  invent  for 
going  to  the  room  of  an  entire  stranger. 

Mrs.  W.  That  makes  it  safe  till  we 
leave  them  to  their  cigars. 

Helen  (coming  down,  and  sitting  on  the 
arm  of  Mrs.  W's  chair].  Mama,  you  will 
have  to  tell  the  boys  that  for  a  particular 
reason,  cause  unspecified,  you  want  to  let 
the  servants  clear  the  dining-room  early, 
so  as  to  set  them  free.  Tell  them  to 
smoke  in  the  library ;  we  will  sit  with 
them  and  put  up  with  the  smoke  for 
once. 

Rose.  That  will  do,  and  you  must 
break  up  the  party  at  our  usual  bed-time 
with  the  excuse  that  Lord  Ferrol,  after 
his  journey,  will  want  to  retire  early. 
Take  no  denial,  and  we  will  escort  him 
upstairs.  Then  we  girls  will  sit  on  the 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          167 

divan  in  the  hall    and  gossip  till  we  feel 
sure  that  all  is  safe. 

Amy.  And  we  '11  write  a  note  making 
an  early  appointment  with  him  in  the  valley 
summer  house ;  and  then  —  (Sounds  of 
laughter  outside.}  Hush ! 

Enter  GEORGE,  STEVEN,  and  DENNIS,  r.  d., 
and  cross  over  tojireplace^  where  they  stand 
and  warm  their  hands. 

Mrs.  W.  Ah,  what  a  breath  of  winter 
freshness  you  bring  in  with  you ! 

Steven.  It  is  a  simply  glorious  after- 
noon. How  you  girls  could  stay  indoors 
and  roast  over  a  fire  is  a  puzzle  to  me ! 

Dennis.  You  forget,  Steve,  that  tele- 
gram which  came  at  luncheon.  They 
were  afraid  they  might  lose  a  few  mo- 
ments of  his  society! 

George.  If  his  ludship  is  n't  afraid  of  a 
little  frost,  we  will  show  him  how  to  spend 
an  evening  on  the  ice. 

Dennis.  I  '11  bet  a  box  of  chocolates  that 
he  does  n't  know  how  to  skate.  {Aside  to 
men.}  They  don't  have  ice  in  Southern 
California. 


1 68          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Amy.  Ten  pounds  and  taken.  (Aside 
to  girls.}  Jack  is  a  superb  skater  ! 

Steven.     Two  to  one  that  Dennis  wins. 

Rose.  I  suppose  you  think  you  are 
betting  on  a  certainty,  so  I  shall  take  you 
up,  just  to  make  you  feel  ashamed  when 
I  lose. 

Steven.  Mrs.  Wycherly,  can't  we  have 
our  tea  without  waiting  for  his  giblets  ?  I 
am  simply  famished ! 

Helen  (crossing  to  /.).  I  wonder  if  men 
ever  really  think  of  anything  besides 
eating. 

George.  If  you  think  that  clearing  the 
drifts  off  that  lake  is  a  light  and  ornamental 
position  under  the.  government,  try  it. 

Mrs.  W.  (rising  and  reseating  herself  at 

desk  chair  r.).    Well,  Helen,  you  may  make 

it  now,  only  save  a  cup  for  Lord  Ferrol. 

[GEORGE  pulls   easy-chair   c.    back 

to  r.,  while  DENNIS  and  STEVEN 

bring  tea-table  to  former  position 

by  chair.     ROSE  exits  I.  d. 

Helen  (coining  to  tea-table  and  holding 
cup  up}.  Lord  Ferrol's  cup. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          169 

Steven,     Oh,  no ! 
Dennis.     Never ! 

\They  try  to  obtain  possession  of  it 
Helen  (going  round  table   and  sitting, 
still  holding  cup}.     Not  for  you. 

Enter  ROSE  with  hot  water  pot.  Men 
return  to  fire-place.  AMY  sits  easy-chair 
I.  of  tea-table. 

Rose  (rubbing    teapot  against  Dennis  s 
hand  as  she  passes].     Hot  water. 

Dennis   (jumping  and    looking  at  his 
hand}.     Not  the  least  doubt  of  it. 

Helen.     Make  the  most  of  it,  boys :  it 's 
the  last  time  our  tea  will  be  sweet  to  you! 

Dennis.    Why  is  Helen  like  a  "  P.  &  O.' 
steamer  ? 

Helen  (indignantly).     I  'm  not ! 

Steven.    Because  she 's  steaming  the  tea  ? 

Dennis.     No. 

Amy.     Don't  keep  us  in  suspense. 

Steven.     Because   she 's    full   of    tease. 

George.     You  make  me  tired. 

Steven.     Is  that  why  you  sat  down  so 
often  on  the  ice? 


170          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Helen.  Isn't  that  just  like  George, — 
sitting  round,  while  the  rest  do  the 
work. 

George.  If  you  think  there  's  any  par- 
ticular pleasure  in  sitting  in  a  snowdrift, 
there's  one  outside,  right  against  the 
verandah. 

Steven.  That  would  never  do  at  present. 
It  might  result  in  a  cold,  and  so  destroy 
our  little  plan  of  winning  the  maiden 
affections  of  —  well,  I  won't  give  him  a 
name  till  I  have  seen  him! 

Helen.  It  is  hard  to  put  up  with  foreign 
titles,  but  as  long  as  our  government  will 
not  protect  that  industry,  the  home  product 
is  so  rude,  boorish,  VULGAR,  and  YOUNG, 
that  we  cannot  help  —  " 

Rose  (interrupting].  Listen !  (Pause.) 
There 's  the  carriage. 

[All  rise  and  start  toward  r.  door. 

Mrs.  W.  (rising  and  intercepting  them 
at  door).  Now,  don't  all  come  running  out 
to  frighten  the  poor  man.  (Men  return  to 
fireplace,  girls  reseat  themselves^)  Let  his 
first  greeting  be  with  me,  and  then  I  will 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          171 

bring  him  in  and  let  him  see  you  and  get 
a  cup  of  tea.  \Exit  r. 

Dennis  (stalking  down  stage]. 

Fe,  Fo,  Fi,  Fum, 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  Englishman ; 

Be  he  alive,  or  be  he  dead, 

I  '11  grind  his  bones  to  make  me  bread. 

Rose  (pointing  at  Dennis}. 

Ping  Wing,  the  pieman's  son, 

Was  the  very  worst  boy  in  all  Canton, 

He  stole  his  mother's  — 

Mrs.   W.  (outside}.     No,  I'm  sure  — 

Enter  MRS.  W.  and  LORD  F.  (in  goggles 

and  wig]  r.  d.  and  come  down  c. 

Mrs.  W.  You  are  chilled  by  your  ride, 
so  you  must  have  a  cup  of  tea  before 
going  to  your  room.  Helen,  this  is  Lord 
Ferrol.  My  daughter,  Miss  Wycherly, 
Miss  Newcome,  Miss  Sherman,  Lord 
Ferrol  — . 

Lord  F.  (bowing].  Charmed,  I  assure 
you ! 

Mrs.  W.  My  nephews,  Mr.  George  and 
Steven  Harold,  and  Mr.  Grant.  There  I 
the  formidable  host  is  reviewed,  and  you 


172          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

can  now  make  yourself  as  comfortable  as 
possible. 

Lord  F.  Er,  thanks,  but  if  you  will 
allow  me,  I  will  go  to  my  room  first,  —  I 
am  so  filthy. 

Mrs.  W.  Oh,  but  you  really  must 
have  tea  first. 

Lord  F.  You  're  awfully  good,  I  'm 
sure.  Er,  will  you  pardon  my  glasses, 
but  I  burned  my  eyes  shooting  alligators, 
and,  er !  that  was  why  I  could  n't  make  a 
more  positive  date,  for  I  was  in  the  hands 
of  an  oculist. 

Amy  (aside).     Oh  !  Jack,  what  a  lie! 

Steven  (aside).  Did  n't  I  tell  you  the 
old  fellow  would  come  out  strong  ?  I 
should  n't  know  him  myself? 

Amy  (rising  from  easy-chair  /.).  Here, 
Lord  Ferrol,  I  have  been  sitting  in  the 
easiest  chair  to  prevent  the  others  from 
taking  it,  so  that  you  should  have  it  when 
you  came. 

Lord  F.     Er,    thanks,  awfully! 

\Sits.     AMY  stands  in  devoted  atti* 
tude  just  at  back  of  his  chair. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          173 

Rose  (rising  and  bringing  hassock].  Let 
me  give  you  this  hassock  —  one  is  so  un- 
comfortable in  these  deep  chairs  without 
one. 

Lord  F.    Er,  Thanks !   You  're  very  kind. 

Helen  (tenderly].  Lord  Ferrol,  will  you 
tell  me  how  you  like  your  tea  ? 

Lord  F.  Strong,  please,  with  plenty  of 
cream  and  sugar. 

Amy  (admiringly].  Ah,  how  nice  it  is 
to  find  a  man  who  takes  his  tea  as  it  should 
be  taken  !  (looking  at  men  scornfully).  It 
is  really  a  mental  labor  to  pour  tea  for  the 
average  man. 

Dennis.  Average  is  a  condition  com- 
mon to  many  ;  therefore  we  are  common. 
Yet  somebody  said  the  common  people 
were  never  wrong. 

Helen.  Well,  they  may  never  be  wrong, 
but  they  can  be  uncommonly  disagree- 
able! 

Lord  F.  Yes,  that 's  very  true.  You 
know,  at  home  we  don't  have  much  to 
do  with  that  class,  but  out  here  you  can't 
keep  away  from  them. 


174         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Amy  (turning  to  men].  There!  I  hope 
you  are  properly  crushed  ? 

Lord  F.  (turning  to  Amy).     Eh  ! 

Amy  (leaning  over  Lord  F.  tenderly). 
Oh,  I  was  n't  speaking  to  you,  dear  Lord 
Ferrol ! 

Mrs.  W.  I  fear  that  you  have  had  some 
unpleasant  experiences  here,  from  the  way 
you  speak. 

Lord  F.  Rather.  (Helen  hands  cup 
with  winning  smile?)  Thanks,  awfully ! 

George.  Perhaps  Lord  Ferrol  will  tell 
us  some  of  them ;  we  may  be  able  to  fuee 
him  from  a  wrong  impression. 

Lord  F.  The  awful  bore  over  here  is, 
that  every  one  tries  to  make  jokes.  Now, 
a  joke  is  very  jolly  after  dinner,  or  when 
one  goes  to  "  Punch  "  for  it. 

Steven.     To  what  ? 

Lord  F.  To  "  Punch,"  don't  you  know, 
—  the  paper. 

Steven.  Oh !  Excuse  my  denseness ; 
I  thought  we  were  discussing  jokes. 

Lord  F.     I  beg  pardon  ? 

Amy.     Don't  mind  him,  Lord  Ferrol. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          175 

George.  No,  like  "  Punch,"  he  's  only 
trying  to  be  humorous. 

Lord  F.     Er,  is  that  an  American  joke  ? 

Dennis.  I  always  thought  Punch  was  a 
British  joke  ! 

Lord  F.  Er,  then  you  Americans  do 
think  it  funny? 

George.     Singularly ! 

Lord  F.  What  I  object  to  in  this  coun- 
try is  the  way  one's  inferiors  joke.  It's 
such  bad  form. 

Rose  (horrified).  Surely  they  have  n't 
tried  to  joke  you  ? 

Lord  F.  Yes.  Now  to-day,  coming  up 
here,  I  took  my  luggage  to  the  station, 
and  got  my  brasses,  but  forgot  your 
direction  that  it  must  be  re-labelled  at  the 
Junction,  so  they  wer'n't  put  off  there. 
I  spoke  to  the  guard,  and  he  was  so  vastly 
obliging  in  promising  to  have  them  sent 
back  that  I  gave  him  a  deem. 

Omnes.     A  what  ? 

Lord  F.  A  deem  —  your  small  coin 
that 's  almost  as  much  as  our  sixpence, 
don't  you  know. 


176          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Omnes.     Oh,  yes  ! 

Lord  F.  Well,  the  fellow  looked  at  it, 
and  then  he  smiled,  and  said  loud  enough 
for  the  whole  car  to  hear :  "  My  dear  John 
Bull,  don't  you  sling  your  wealth  about 
in  this  prodigal  way.  You  take  it  home, 
and  put  it  out  at  compound  interest, 
and  some  day  you'll  buy  out  Gould  or 
Rockefeller." 

Helen.  How  shockingly  rude !  What 
did  you  do  ? 

Lord  F.  I  told  him  if  he  did  n't  behave 
himself,  I  'd  give  him  in  charge.  (Men  all 
laugh.)  Now,  is  that  another  of  your 
American  jokes  ? 

Dennis  (aside).     Oh  !  is  n't  this  rich  ? 

Amy  (aside  to  Lord  F.).  Oh,  you  are 
beautiful ! 

Lord  F.  (bewildered  and  starting}. 
Thanks  awfully,  —  if  you  really  mean  it ! 

Steven  (coming  down  to  back  of  LorcC 
F's  chair).  What  did  she  say,  Lord 
Ferrol  ?  You  must  take  Miss  Sherman 
with  a  grain  of  allowance. 

Amy.     I  'm  not  a  pill,  thank  you. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          177 

Lord  F.     Why,  who  said  you  were  ? 

Dennis.  Only  a  homoeopathic  sugar- 
plum. 

Lord  F.     I  don't  understand. 

Steven  (aside  to  Lord  F.}.  Keep  it  up, 
old  man.  It 's  superb ! 

Lord  F.  I  beg  pardon, —  did  you  speak 
to  me  ? 

Steven  (retreating  to  fireplace).  Oh, 
no !  only  addressing  vacancy. 

Mrs.  W.  I  hope,  Lord  Ferrol,  that 
there  has  been  enough  pleasant  in  your 
trip  to  make  you  forget  what  has  been 
disagreeable. 

Lord  F.  Er,  quite  so.  The  trip  has 
been  vastly  enjoyable. 

Rose.     Where  have  you  been  ? 

Lord  F.  I  landed  in  New  York  and 
spent  the  night  there,  but  it  was  such  a 
bore  that  I  went  on  to  Niagara  the  next 
day.  From  there  I  travelled  through  the 
Rockies,  getting  some  jolly  sport,  and  then 
went  to  Florida. 

Mrs.  W.  Why,  you  have  seen  a  large 
part  of  our  country  ;  even  more  than  your 


12 


178          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

father  did.  I  remember  his  amazement 
at  our  autumn  foliage.  He  said  it  was 
the  most  surprising  thing  in  the  trip. 

Amy.  What  did  you  think  of  it,  Lord 
Ferrol  ? 

Lord  F.     It  struck  me  as  rather  gaudy. 

Rose.  Why,  I  had  never  thought  of  it, 
but  perhaps  it  is  a  little  vivid. 

Dennis  (aside  to  men}.  Oh,  how  I 
should  like  to  kick  him! 

Steven  (aside  to  Dennis).  Hush !  You 
forget  that  "  Codlin  's  your  friend  —  not 
Short." 

George.  Did  n't  you  ever  see  a  Vene- 
tian sunset  ? 

Lord  F.     Oh,  yes.     Why  do  you  ask  ? 

George  (sarcastically).  I  merely  thought 
it  might  be  open  to  the  same  objection ! 

Lord  F.  It  might  —  I  don't  remember. 
I  '11  look  it  up  in  my  journal  when  I  get 
home,  and  see  if  it  impressed  me  at  the 
time. 

Helen.  Do  you  keep  a  journal?  (Rises 
and  sits  on  footstool  at  Lord  F!s  feet?) 
How  delightful !  (Beseechingly?)  Oh, 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          179 

won't  you  let  me  look  at  what  you  have 
with  you  ? 

Rose.     Please,  Lord  Ferrol! 

Amy.     Ah,  do  ! 

Lord  F.     It  would  bore  you,  I  'm  sure. 

Dennis  (aside],  I  don't  care  if  he  is  n't 
a  double-barrelled  earl,  I  should  like  to 
kick  him  all  the  same ! 

Helen.  Lord  Ferrol,  you  must  let  us 
hear  some  of  it. 

Rose.  If  you  don't  we  shall  think  you 
have  said  something  uncomplimentary  of 
the  American  women. 

Lord  F.  No,  I  assure  you  I  have 
been  quite  delighted. 

Amy.  Then  why  won't  you  let  us 
see  it? 

Lord  F.  Er,  I  could  n't,  you  know ;  but 
if  you  really  are  in  earnest,  I  '11  read  you 
some  extracts. 

Omnes.     Oh,  do ! 

Lord  F.  I  ought  to  explain  that  I 
started  with  the  intention  of  writing  a 
book  on  America,  so  this  (producing  book) 
is  not  merely  what  I  did  and  saw,  but 
desulrorv  notes  on  the  States. 


180         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Rose.     How  interesting ! 

Lord  F.  After  your  suggestion  of  what 
I  have  written  of  the  American  women,  I 
think  it  best  to  give  you  some  of  my  notes 
on  them. 

Mrs .  W.     By  all  means ! 

Lord  F.  (reading].  "  Reached  Wash- 
ington, the  American  capital,  and  went 

direct  to  Mrs. .  Cabman  charged 

me  sixteen  shillings.  When  I  made  a  row, 
butler  sent  for  my  host,  who,  instead  of 
calling  a  constable,  made  me  pay  the  fel- 
low, by  insisting  on  paying  it  himself. 

Mr. is  a  Senator,  and  is  seen  very 

little  about  the  house,  from  which  I  infer 
the  American  men  are  not  domestic  — 
presumably,  because  of  their  wild  life  —  " 

Mrs.  W.  (with  anxiety}.     Their  what  ? 

Lord  F.  Their  wild  life,  —  spending  so 
much  of  their  time  on  the  plains,  don't  you 
know. 

Mrs.  W.  (relieved*}.  Oh !  Excuse  my 
misapprehension. 

Lord  F.  (reading).  "  The  daughter  is 
very  pretty,  which  Mrs. tells  me  is 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          181 

unusual  in  Washington  society — as  if 
I  could  be  taken  in  by  such  an  obvious 
Dowager  puff !  ( Men  all  point  at  Mrs.  W. 
and  laugh.  Mrs.  W.  shakes  her  finger 

reprovingly}  Miss says  the  Boston 

girls  are  plain  and  thin,  due  to  their  living 
almost  wholly  on  fads,  which  are  very 
unhealthy  "  {Speaking.}  I  could  n't  find 
that  word  in  the  dictionary. 

Steven.  Sort  of  intellectual  chewing- 
gum,  Lord  Ferrol. 

Dennis.  Yes,  and  like  gum,  you  never 
get  beyond  a  certain  point  with  it.  It 's 
very  fatiguing  to  the  jaw. 

Lord  F.  (reading].  "  She  says  the  New 
York  girls  are  the  best  dressed  in  the 
country,  being  hired  by  the  dressmakers 
to  wear  gowns,  to  make  the  girls  of  other 
cities  envious,  and  that  this  is  where  they 
get  all  the  money  they  spend.  Very 
remarkable !  " 

Helen.  Something  like  sandwich  men, 
evidently. 

Lord  F.  (reading).  "  The  Philadelphia 
girls,  she  says,  are  very  fast,  but  never  for 


1 82         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

long  at  a  time,  because  the  men  get  sleepy 
and  must  have  afternoon  naps." 

Amy.  Did  she  tell  you  that  insomnia 
is  thought  to  make  one  very  distinguished 
there  ? 

Lord  F.  {making  note  in  book}.  Er, 
thanks,  awfully.  {Reading.}  "  She  says 
that  the  Baltimore  girls  are  great  beauties, 
and  marry  so  quickly  that  there  is  gen- 
erally a  scarcity.  It  is  proposed  to  start 
a  joint  stock  company  to  colonise  that  city 
with  the  surplus  from  Boston,  and  she 
thinks  there  ought  to  be  lots  of  money  in 
it!  Another  extreme  case  of  American 
dollar  worship  !  The  Western  girls,  she 
told  me,  are  all  blizzards."  (Speaking^]  I 
don't  think  I  could  have  mistaken  the 
word,  for  I  made  her  spell  it.  Yet  the 
American  dictionary  defines  blizzard  as 
a  great  wind  or  snow  storm. 

George.  That  is  it,  Lord  Ferrol.  They 
talk  so  much  that  it  gives  the  effect  of  a 
wind  storm. 

Lord  F.  Ah !  much  obliged.  (Read- 
ing?) "  Went  to  eight  receptions  in  one 


The  Best  Laid  Plans         183 

afternoon,  where  I  was  introduced  to  a 
lot  of  people,  and  talked  to  nobody. 
Dined  out  somewhere,  but  can't  re- 
member the  name.  Took  in  a  Miss , 

a  most  charming  and  lovely  —  " 

Dennis  (interrupting].     Ah,  there  ! 

Lord  F.     I  beg  pardon. 

Rose,  You  must  forgive  his  rude  inter- 
ruption, Lord  Ferrol. 

Lord  F.  Oh,  certainly  !  You  're  sure 
you  're  not  bored  ? 

Omnes.     By  no  means.     Do  go  on. 

Lord  jp.  "  A  most  charming  and  lovely 
girl  from  New  York.  She  thinks  Miss 
characterised  the  cities  rightly,  ex- 
cept her  own.  Asked  me  if  I  thought 
she  was  only  a  dressmaking  advertise- 
ment ?  As  scarcely  any  of  her  dress  was 
to  be  seen,  I  replied  that  as  I  could  n't 
look  below  the  table,  I  was  sure  it  was  the 
last  thing  one  would  accuse  her  of  being. 
She  blushed  so  violently  that  I  had  to  tell 
her  that  I  had  seen  much  worse  dresses  in 
London  ;  but  that  did  n't  please  her  any 
better,  and  she  talked  to  the  man  next  her 


184         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  (All  have 
difficulty  in  suppressing  their  laughter.} 
I  met  a  Boston  girl  afterwards  who  —  " 

\Bell  rings. 

Mrs.    W.      Lord    Ferrol,  there   is   our 
summons  to  the  upper  regions.     We  will 
not  make  a  formal  guest  of  you,  but  will 
all  guide  you  to   your  room.     \All  rise. 
Lord  F.     Er,  thanks. 
Mrs.  W.  (taking  Lord  F.'s  arm).    Your 
trunks  not  having  arrived  (exit  r.  d.  with 
Lord  F.)  we  will  none  of  us  — 

\_Exit  AMY  and  HELEN  r.  d.,  evidently 

laughing.  ROSE  exits  I.  d.  Men  all 

go  off  into  paroxysms  of  laughter. 

Steven  (suddenly].     Well,  I  must  go  and 

coach  him. 

Dennis.  My  dear  fellow!  you  can't 
paint  the  lily. 

Enter  ROSE,  quietly,  I.  d.     Men  all  check 
their  laughter. 

Rose.  I  came  back  for  my  skates. 
Why,  what  are  you  laughing  about!  And 
pray  what  lily  are  you  going  to  paint? 


The  Best  Laid  Plans         185 

George.  My  dear  cousin,  when  a  person 
enters  a  room  already  occupied,  without 
due  warning,  she  must  not  ask  questions 
relative  to  the  subject  under  discussion. 

Rose  (talking  down  stage  to  conceal  her 
laughter).  I  know  very  well  what  you  were 
talking  about.  You  were  making  fun  of 
Lord  Ferrol. 

Steven.  Give  you  my  solemn  word  we 
were  not  making  fun  of  Lord  Ferrol. 

Men.  No  !  How  suspicious  you  girls 
are ! 

\A  II  laugh.  H  ELEN  tries  to  s^lppress 
her  laughter,  and  then  rushes  out 
r.  d.,  followed  by  STEVEN. 

Dennis.  That  journal  was  a  mighty 
clever  dodge  of  Parker's.  It  staved  off 
all  dangerous  questions  till  Steve  could 
coach  him. 

George.     There  were   some  capital  no- 
tions in  it,  too.     If  he  will  only  give 
few  more   risque  anecdotes,  none   <x   the 
girls  will  dare  talk  to  him. 

Dennis.  Did  you  see  Mrs.  "  v'ycherly's 
horrified  expression  when  ]  c  alluded  to 


1 86  Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

the  wild  life  of  the  American  men  ?  I  am 
sure  she  thought  he  was  going  to  give  us 
some  "  exposures  in  high  life." 

Enter  STEVEN  hurriedly \  r.  d. 

Steven.  Look  here,  fellows,  you  Ve  got 
to  help  me.  The  girls  have  planted  them- 
selves on  the  divan  upstairs,  and  I  can't 
go  to  Ferrol's  room  without  their  seeing 
me.  Come  up  and  occupy  them,  while  I 
slip  in. 

Dennis.     Decoy  ducks,  eh  ? 

Stuart.  That 's  it.  Come  along,  George. 
[All  exit  r.  d.,  —  slight  pause. 

Enter  LORD  F.  /.  d.,  dressed  as  before. 

Lord  F.  (looking  about).  I  must  have 
made  a  mistake  in  the  door,  for  I  got  into 
the  butler's  pantry;  but  this  is  right,  I  am 
sure.  Queer  place  and  queer  manners ! 
Will  make  interesting  reading,  though. 
Ah,  a  good  chance  to  fill  up  my  journal. 
(Seats  himself  at  desk,  takes  out  book,  and 
writes,  speaking  aloud  and  soliloquising  as 
he  does  so.)  "  At  5.15  reached  some  unpro- 


The  Best  Laid  Plans         187 

nounceable  and  unspellable  place.  Was 
met  by  Mrs.  Wycherly  at  front  door  "  — 
curious  fashion  that!  It  made  me  take 
her  for  the  housekeeper  at  first.  "  She 
insisted,  in  spite  of  my  protests,"  —  I  snp- 
pose  it  was  an  American  idea  of  hospi- 
tality, — "  in  taking  me  at  once  into  the 
drawing-room  and  presenting  me  to  the 
house-party,  and  giving  me  a  cup  of  tea. 
I  felt  very  disagreeable,  both  from  the  con- 
dition I  was  in,  and  the  fact  that  all  of 
them  kept  making  remarks  which  were 
entirely  unintelligible  to  me.  The  young 
ladies  were  very  kind,  but  more  forward 
even  than  they  are  in  England,  though 
in  a  different  way." — I  confess  I  rather 
liked  it.  —  "Read  some  of  my  journal  aloud 
and  had  no  corrections.  Blizzard  applied 
to  Western  girls  means  that  they  talk  a 
great  deal.  Was  shown  to  my  room  by 
Mrs.  Wycherly  and  the  young  ladies, 
which  was  rather  embarrassing,  especially 
as  they  seemed  inclined  to  linger,  and 
only  hurried  out  on  the  appearance  of  the 
gjntlemen.  On  leaving,  one  of  the  girls 


1 88          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

slipped  her  hand  into  mine  and  gave  it  a 
distinct  squeeze,  at  the  same  time  asking 
in  a  whisper,  '  Did  your  sister  send  her 
love?'" — Now  the  idea  of  Sappho  send- 
ing her  love  to  a  girl  of  whom  she  had 
never  heard !  —  "I  pretended  not  to  hear, 
but  she  evidently  knew  that  she  had  been 
too  free,  for  as  she  left  she  jerked  her 
head  towards  the  gentlemen  and  said, 
*  They  did  n't  see.'  Could  not  change  my 
travelling  suit,  my  boxes  having  gone 
astray.  Found  a  letter  pinned  to  my 
pin-cushion,  and  when  the  valet  brought 
the  hot  water,  he  gave  me  another.  Both, 
judging  from  the  hand-writing  and  paper, 
seem  to  be  written  by  ladies  and  gentle- 
men."—  I  should  like  to  know  what  they 
mean?  I  wonder  if  it's  good  form  in 
America  to  play  jokes  on  guests?  (Pro- 
duces notes  and  reads.}  "  Dear  F."  —  (Rises 
and  comes  to  c.)  Now  the  idea  of  the 
fellow  writing  to  me  in  that  way  on  the 
acquaintance  of  a  single  afternoon  —  why, 
even  my  best  friends  only  say  "  Dear 
Ferrol."  —  "  You  were  simply  marvellous. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans         189 

I  would  have  staked  my  bottom  dollar  on 
your  identity,  if  I  had  not  known  who  you 
were."  —  Now  what  does  he  mean  by  that, 
I  wonder  ?  —  "  You  were  so  real  that 
Dennis  wanted  to  kick  you,  and  nothing 
but  the  presence  of  the  ladies  prevented 
him."  —  Gad!  I  wonder  if  these  fellows 
can  be  gentlemen,  and  if  so,  whether  they 
are  a  fair  specimen  —  kick  me!  (Pause.} 
Well,  I  suppose  they're  jealous. —  "So 
don't  be  too  hard  on  us.  Now  as  to  the 
future.  If  we  do  not  see  each  other  this 
evening,  you  must  get  up  before  breakfast, 
go  out  of  the  side  door,  and  strike  across 
the  lawn  toward  the  river.  Three  minutes' 
walk  will  bring  you  in  sight  of  a  little 
summer-house.  Come  to  it,  and  some  of 
us  will  be  there  prepared  to  instruct  you 
as  to  yourself,  and  put  you  on  your  guard 
as  to  the  girls,  who,  you  see,  are  making  a 
dead  set  at  you."  —  You  know,  that 's  just 
what  I  thought.  — "  Remember,  in  the 
bright  lexicon,  etc.,  etc.,  Steve." — Now 
what  does  he  mean  by  "  bright  lexicon  ?  " 
And  does  he  think  I  'm  going  to  tramp 


190          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

through  the  snow,  when  it 's  so  evidently 
a  joke  ?  (Opens  other  note.)  "  You  dear  love 
of  a  snob  "  —  Now  I  should  vastly  like 
to  know  how  that  is  meant.  I  don't 
think  it 's  a  nice  way  of  beginning  a  letter, 
I  'm  sure.  Yet  she  evidently  means  it  as 
a  compliment  —  "You  were  so  perfectly 
delicious  that  I  could  scarcely  forbear  from 
giving  you  a  kiss."  —  Extraordinary !  — 
"  Indeed  I  think  I  will  to-morrow,  just  to 
make  the  boys  desperate.  I  only  hope 
your  life  is  insured,  for  Dennis  will  proba- 
bly chuck  you  out  of  the  window,  when  I 
do,  and  it's  too  cold  for  the  window  to  be 
opened.  Fortunately  there  is  plenty  of 
soft  snow  to  break  the  fall."  —  Now  is  n't 
that  a  nasty  way  of  joking !  One  would 
actually  think  she  enjoyed  the  prospect  of 
seeing  me  thrown  out  the  window.  —  "I 
have  given  directions  that  you  are  to  be 
called  early,  and  as  soon  as  you  can,  I 
want  you  to  come  to  the  valley  summer- 
house.  Turn  to  your  right,  and  walk 
straight  towards  the  river,  and  you  can't 
miss  it.  There  you  will  find  a  bevy  of 


The  Best  Laid  Plans          191 

maidens  waiting  to  metaphorically  hug 
and  kiss  you,  and  instruct  you  so  that  you 
may  play  the  part  of  George  Augustus 
Guelph  Dunstan,  Earl  of  Ferrol  and 
Staunton,  with  sufficient  stupidity  and 
vanity.  Amy" — Now  I  should  like  to 
know  what  all  that  means.  (Reflectively.) 
Amy  —  she's  the  one  who  told  me  I  was 
beautiful  the  first  time  she  spoke  to  me.  I 
should  like  to  know  what  she  means ! 

Enter  MRS.  W.  r.  d. 

Mrs.  W.  (crossing  to  c.).  Why,  I  did  n't 
know  you  had  come  downstairs,  Lord  — 
I  hardly  know  whether  to  call  you  Lord 
Ferrol,  but  I  suppose  it  is  safer. 

Lord  F.  (surprised].     Eh  ? 

Mrs.  W.  (confidentially).  I  was  im- 
mensely amused  just  now  in  coming  down. 
There  are  all  the  boys  and  girls  sitting  in 
the  upper  hall,  each  intent  on  getting  a  few- 
words  with  you,  or  of  preventing  the  others. 

Lord  F.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  vastly 
flattered.  Yet  I  thought  the  gentlemen 
disliked  me. 


192         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Mrs.  W.  (laughing].  Oh,  they  will 
probably  kill  you  before  the  end  of  your 
visit. 

Lord ' F.  Good  gracious,  Mrs.  Wycherly, 
you  're  not  speaking  seriously  ! 

Mrs.  W.  You  play  your  part  so  well 
that  I  myself  should  think  that  you  were 
to  the  manner  born. 

Lord  F.  (aside).  I  wonder  if  it  is  the  fash- 
ion of  the  house  to  speak  in  innuendoes. 
(Aloud.}  Er !  Mrs.  Wycherly,  I  am  so 
new  to  your  ways  that  I  should  really  like 
to  ask  you  about  one  or  two  questions  of 
etiquette.  You  know  that  it  differs  so  in 
countries,  and  I  never  want  to  seem  cold  or 
rude.  Now,  over  here,  is  it  customary  for 
young  ladies  to  say  that  they  want  to  kiss 
fellows  (voices  outside]  who  are  no  relations 
of  theirs  ? 

Mrs.  W.     Why,  I  never  heard  — 

Enter  all,  r.  d.  HELEN,  GEORGE,  and 
STEVEN  cross  to  I.  ROSE  comes  down  r.  to 
writing-desk.  DENNIS  and  AMY  stand 
at  fireplace. 


The  Best  Laid  Plans         193 

Amy  (to  Lord  F.).  Oh,  here  you  are ! 
We  've  all  been  waiting  upstairs  for  you. 

Lord  F.     Er,  thanks. 

Rose.  I  hope  we  are  not  late,  Mrs. 
•Wycherly. 

Mrs.  W.  (going  up  stage  to  fireplace}. 
Oh,  it  does  n't  matter  in  the  least.  You  will 
simply  have  grieved  Seymour  over  the 
dinner. 

Rose.  I  know  I  shall  grieve  him  by  my 
appetite.  (Over  desk  to  Lord  F.)  Why, 
Lord  Ferrol,  I  am  hungry  enough  to  eat 
you. 

Lord  F.  {half  turning).  Er,  thanks,  aw- 
fully. (Aside.)  Now,  what  does  she 
mean  ? 

Amy.  Oh,  I  would  n't  eat  Lord  Ferrol, 
for  you  can  't  eat  your  cake  and  have  it. 
(Coming  down  center  to  Lord  F.)  But  I 
should  like  to  kiss  him,  if  he  will  let  me. 

Lord  F.  Er,  charmed,  —  if  Mrs.  Wych- 
erly thinks  it  proper. 

Dennis  (seizing  paper-knife  from  desk 
and  rushing  down  between  them].  This  is 
too  much,  Parker!  You  are  getting  more 
13 


194         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

than     your     share.    (Turning    to    Amy.) 
Avaunt,  woman !  you  have  raised  the  sav- 
age in  me,  and  behold  the  consequences! 
[  Uses  the  knife  as  a  scalping  knife, 
and  then  tears  off  LORD  F.'s  wig, 
revealing  a  perfectly  bald  head. 
Lord  F.     Gad,  sir !  what  do  you  mean  ? 
Omnes.     Why,  who  are  you  ? 

[AMY  crosses  to  /.  as  if  bewildered. 
Lord  F.     Who  am  I  ? 
Mrs.    W.  (with  horror).     You    are   not 
really  Lord  Ferrol  ? 

Lord  F.     Who  else  should  I  be  ?  [Pause* 
Amy.     (sinking  faintly  into  chair}.    And 
I  asked  leave  to  kiss  him  ! 

Mrs.  W.  (coming  down  to  c.  and  speaking 
with  great  anxiety).  Lord  Ferrol,  my 
young  people  here  were  each  trying  to  play 
a  joke  on  the  other,  and  by  a  horrible  coin- 
cidence you  have  been  the  victim.  (Im- 
ploringly.] Will  you  not  try  to  forgive 
us  now,  and  let  me  explain  at  dinner? 

[All  come  down  stage  and  seem  to 

plead. 
Lord  F.     Well,  really,  if  it 's  a  mistaker 


The  Best   Laid  Plans         195 

of  course  I  can  't  cut  up  rough.  (To  Amy.} 
Then  you  don  't  think  I  'm  a  dear  love  of 
a  snob,  eh  ? 

Amy  (faintly).     Oh,    no,    Lord   Ferrol. 

Lord F.  And  you  don't  want  to  kiss 
me  ? 

Amy  (more faintly).  No,  indeed,  Lord 
Ferrol. 

Lord  F.  Then,  Miss  Sherman,  I  will 
try  to  make  you  do  both. 

Steven  (coming  down  £.).  There,  did  n't 
I  tell  you  the  real  English  swells  were 
very  jolly,  gentlemanly  fellows  ? 

\_Shakes  hands  with  Ferrol. 

Lord  F.  And  didn't  I  tell  you  the 
Americans  were  always  joking  in  the  wrong 
place  ?  ( To  Dennis)  Er,  I  '11  thank  you 
for  my  hair. 

CURTAIN 


"MAN    PROPOSES" 

IN 

SEVERAL  DECLARATIONS 

AND 

ONE   ACT 


PLACE 

Morning  room  at  the  Wortleys. 

TIME 

After  dinner,  and  before  the  masked  balL 

CHARACTERS 

Miss  AGNES  WORTLEY 
(A  -winner  of  hearts). 

MRS.  VAN  TROMP 

(A  widow  to  be  won). 

POLLY 

(A  serving  maid  who  serves). 

MR.  STUART 

(A  theoretical  bachelor). 

MR.  REGINALD  DE  LANCEY  VAN  TROMP 
(A  man  with  ancestors). 

MR.  CHARLIE  NEWBANK 
(A  man  with  money). 

MR.  FREDERICK  STEVENS 
(A  man  with  neither). 


SCENE. — Morning  room  in  city  house,  —  doors  I. 
and  b.  Fireplace  with  fire  I.  c.  Writing- 
desk,  with  matches,  pens,  ink,  paper,  and  hand- 
bell back  centre  —  chair  at  desk.  Down  stage  L, 
easy  chair,  and  an  ottoman  or  light  chair  c. 
At  extreme  down  stage  r.  corner,  a  bay  window, 
with  practical  curtains,  and  a  divan  seat.  On 
mantel  a  clock  which  strikes  ten  as  soon  as  cur- 
tain rises. 

Enter  POLLY  /.  d. 

Polly  (coming  down  wearily].  Mercy, 
how  tired  I  am  I  And  no  chance  of  rest 
for  at  least  six  hours  (drops  into  chair  c.}. 
Dinners  and  balls  may  be  fun  for  those  who 
do  the  eating  and  dancing,  but  it 's  death 
on  us  poor  servants.  I  'm  worked  hard 
enough  usually,  in  all  conscience'  sake,  but 
Miss  Agnes  has  given  me  just  the  hardest 
day  I  Ve  ever  seen  !  {Imitates  Agnes  giv- 
ing orders?)  "  Polly,  is  my  bath  ready  ?  " 


2OO          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

"  Polly,  give  me  my  dressing-gown/* 
"  Polly,  bring  me  my  coffee."  ''  Now  dress 
rr.y  hair,  Polly."  "  Get  me  my  habit, 
Polly."  (Rises.)  "  While  I  'm  in  the  park, 
Polly,  sew  the  ribbons  on  my  two  domi- 
nos."  "  Oh,  and  I  '11  be  too  busy  to-day 
to  write  acknowledgments  for  the  bouquets, 
Polly,  so  you  may  write  to  Mr.  Stevens  and 
Mr.  Van  Tromp  and  Mr.  Newbank,  and 
any  others  that  come,  thanking  them 
for  their  lovely  flowers,  which  are  now 
filling  my  room  with  sweetness  !  "  From 
seven  till  eight  it's  been  nothing  but  "  Polly, 
do  this,"  and  "  Polly,  do  that,"  and  "  Where  's 
Polly  ?  "  And  no  one  so  much  as  said 
"  Polly,  want  a  cracker  ?  "  I  have  n't  had  a 
chance  to  sit  down  since  I  got  up.  I  even 
had  to  eat  my  dinner  off  the  laundry  tubs 
(mimics  eating  with  pen  and  paper-cutter 
at  desk]  standing,  because  the  caterers 
were  everywhere,  getting  the  dinner  and 
ball  supper  ready.  Miss  Agnes  says  she's 
all  "worn  out."  I  wish  she  could  try 
my  work  once  in  a  while.  How  I  should 
enjoy  telling  the  rich  and  sought-after 


Man  Proposes  201 

Miss  Agnes  Wortley  to  (mimicking)  "  but- 
ton my  shoes,"  (sticks  out f oof)  or  (waves  her 
hand] "  fetch  me  my  gloves !  "  I  would  give 
a  month's  wages  if  I  could  only  take  her 
place  just  for  to-night  at  the  masked  ball. 
{Speaking  with  excitement?)  When  she 
decided  that  she  must  have  two  dominos, 
so  that  she  could  change  in  the  middle  of 
the  ball,  I  thought  to  myself:  l What's 
to  prevent  your  slipping  on  the  domino 
she  isn't  wearing,  and  going  downstairs  ? ' 
(Muses.)  If  I  only  dared  !  I  could  easily 
slip  out  before  she  wanted  to  change ! 
(Pause?)  No  !  I  must  n't  even  think  of  it 
or  the  temptation  will  be  too  great. 

[  Goes  to  fireplace,  and  sitting  on 
rug  pokes  the  fire. 

STUART  appears  b.  d.  and  looks  in. 

Polly.  It  would  be  such  fun  !  Think  of 
being  Miss  Agnes  for  one  evening  and 
dancing  with  all  her  admirers!  Oh,  my! 
Supposing  one  should  propose!  Mr.  New- 
bank!  (Laughs?)  Or  Mr.  Van  Tromp! 
(Laughs  again?)  I  'd  know  what  I  'd  say 


202          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

to  them!     Mr.  Stevens?  I  wonder  if  she 
cares  for  him. 

Stuart.     And  how  about  Mr.  Stuart  ? 

Polly  (springing  up,  flustered}.  Oh, 
Jimmy!  Oh — I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr. 
Stuart,  I  was  —  I  —  ^Hesitates. 

St^^,art  (laughing).  Poking  the  fire,  eh  ? 
Is  this  room  free  territory  ? 

Polly.     Yes,    Mr.    Stuart.     It's    Miss 

Wbrtley's  boudoir,  but  she  thought  it  would 

be  a  nice  place  for  people  to  come  when 

they    were  tired    of   dancing    downstairs. 

\Courtseys  and  exits  I.  d. 

Stuart  (calling  out  r.).  This  way,  Fred. 
Here's  a  quiet  nook  saved  from  the  uni- 
versal ruin  and  bareness  of  downstairs. 

\_Comes  down. 
Enter  FRED,  b.  d.>  slowly. 

Stuart.     Is  n't  this  luck  ? 

Fred  (gloomily).  There  is  n't  any  such 
thing !  Or  if  there  is,  I  never  get  any. 

Stuart.  Now,  Fred,  you  can't  say  that 
after  this.  You  and  I  don't  want  to  stay 
and  smoke  with  the  men.  Neither  do  we 
want  to  join  the  ladies.  The  other  rooms 


Man  Proposes  203 

are  as  bare  and  uncomfortable  as  waxed 
floors  and  camp-chairs  can  make  them. 
I  suggest  trying  upstairs,  and  when  I  dis- 
cover and  pilot  you  to  this  oasis  in  the 
desert,  you  at  once  begin  to  grumble. 

Fred.  I  'm  sorry  I  'm  bad  company, 
Mr.  Stuart ;  but  if  I  'm  so  to  you,  just 
think  what  I  must  be  to  myself. 

Stuart.     There  is  something  in  that. 

Fred.  And  you  only  see  me  occasion- 
ally, and  I  'm  with  myself  day  and  night. 

Stuart  (laughing].  Pity  you  can't  hire 
some  one  to  kill  your  disagreeable  com- 
panion. I  wonder  if  a  jury  would  n't 
bring  in  a  verdict  of  justifiable  homicide, 
if  you  drowned  or  hung  him. 

Fred.     I  'd  like  to  ! 

Stuart.  Curious.  Such  a  dinner,  even 
when  I  know  it 's  to  be  followed  by  a  ball, 
always  puts  me  in  a  beatific  state  of  mind. 

Fred  (wearily}.  I  thought  it  very  long 
and  tedious. 

Stuart.  And  what  is  worse,  you  looked 
it.  You  looked  as  glum  all  through  as  if 
you  were  waiting  for  the  last  trump. 


204         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Fred  (crossly].  It  was  n't  the  last  trump 
I  was  waiting  for.  I  was  — 

Stuart  (interrupting).  No,  I  misworded 
my  sentence.  You  were  waiting  for  the 
last  of  Van  Tromp. 

Fred.     Oh,  pshaw! 

[Rises  and  crosses  to  r.  angrily. 

Stuart  (laughing).  You  don't  seem  to 
enjoy  my  pun  ? 

Fred.     Oh,  if  it  pleases  you,  go  ahead. 
[Goes  up  and  sits  on  desk. 

Stuart.  Fred,  you  make  a  mistake  to 
go  into  society  while  you  are  in  this  mood. 
Take  a  friend's  advice  and  cut  it  till  you 
are  better  tempered. 

Fred  (impatiently).  I  don't  go  because 
I  enjoy  it. 

Stuart  (sarcastically).  Ah  !  You  go  to 
make  it  pleasant  for  others. 

Fred.     No,  I  go  because  she  goes. 

Stiiart  (laughing).  Will  you  tell  me 
why  a  woman's  reason  is  always  a  "be- 
rause,"  and  a  man's  is  always  a  "  she  "? 

Fred.     She's  an  excuse  for  anything! 

Stuart.     Even  for  Charlie  Newbank  ? 


Man  Proposes  205 

Fred  (rising  angrily).  Look  here,  Mr. 
Stuart,  I  '11  take  a  good  deal  from  you ; 
but  there  is  a  limit. 

Stuart  (soothingly].  Excuse  me,  my  boy. 
It  is  brutal  in  me,  but  I  am  trying  to  see 
if  I  can't  laugh  you  out  of  it. 

Fred  (sits  chair  I.  as  if  discouraged], 
No  use  !  As  they  say  out  West,  it 's  come 
to  stay  and  grow  up  with  the  country. 

Stuart.  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  your  love  for 
Miss  Wortley.  She  's  a  sweet,  unspoiled 
girl,  in  spite  of  her  own  and  her  papa's 
money,  and  I  hope  you  '11  win  her.  I  was 
only  trying  to  cheer  you  out  of  your  dumps, 
and  make  you  look  at  the  golden  side  of 
things. 

Fred.  That 's  just  what  I  see  all  the 
time,  and  what  comes  between  us.  I  can't 
forget  her  money. 

Stuart  (springing  to  his  feef].  There  ! 
That  goes  to  prove  a  pet  little  theory  of 
mine,  that  it  is  rather  hard  for  a  rich  girl  to 
marry  well. 

Fred.  I  should  think  you  needed  a  con- 
firmatory evidence. 


206          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart.  You  are  just  like  the  rest ! 
You  take  the  conventionally  superficial 
view  of  it. 

Fred.  Very  well,  turn  lawyer  and  argue 
your  case  before  referee  Mr.  Frederick 
Stevens,  junior  member  of  the  celebrated 
firm  of  Gary,  Green  and  Hart. 

Stuart.  You  fire  my  ambition.  Well, 
(rising  and  imitating  legal  style)  your 
honour,  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  a  priori 
and  imprimis  we  start  with  the  postulate 
that  the  party  of  the  first  part,  otherwise  the 
girl  with  money,  is  usually  so  spoiled  that 
most  fellows  won't  care  for  her.  But  we 
will  leave  that  out  of  the  argument  and 
say  that  she  is  a  nice  girl.  Well,  by  her 
parents,  her  friends,  and  her  reading,  she 
is  taught  to  think  that  every  man  who  is 
attentive  to  her  may  be  a  fortune-hunter. 
The  consequence  is  that  she  is  suspicious, 
and  may  say  or  do  something  to  wound  or 
insult  a  fellow  who  cares  for  her,  and  so 
drive  him  off. 

Fred.     That 's  one  point  for  your  side. 

Stuart.     But  even  if  she  is  not  made 


Man  Proposes  207 

suspicious  by  her  money,  (points  at  Fred) 
he  is.  A  decent  man  dreads  to  have  his 
motives  misjudged.  He  's  afraid  that  the 
girl,  or  her  father,  or  her  mother,  or  her 
friends,  or  his  friends,  will  think  he  is 
fortune-hunting. 

Fred.     I  should  think  he  was  ! 

Stiiart.  Finally,  her  money  draws  about 
her  a  lot  of  worthless  fellows.  As  a  con- 
sequence, she  is  always  beset  and  engaged. 
You  must  remember  that  in  this  country 
a  man,  if  he  amounts  to  a  row  of  pins,  is  a 
worker,  and  not  a  drone.  He  cannot, 
therefore,  dance  the  continual  attendance 
that  is  necessary  to  see  much  of  a  society 
girl  nowadays.  This  can  only  be  done 
by  our  rich  and  leisured  young  men,  who 
are  few  and  far  between  ;  by  foreign  titles, 
who  are  quite  as  scarce;  and  by  the  idlers 
and  do-nothings,  who,  if  the  girl  is  worth 
winning,  are  as  distasteful  to  her  as  they 
are  to  the  rest  of  mortal  kind.  (Sits  chair 
c.)  I  submit  my  case. 

Fred.  Mr.  Stuart,  you  entirely  missed 
your  vocation.  Allow  me  to  congratulate 


208          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

you  on  your  maiden  argument.  But  at 
the  same  time  the  referee  would  call  your 
attention  to  the  fact  that  you  have  failed 
to  take  the  relatives  into  account.  They 
can  overcome  all  this  by  heading  off 
the  undesirables  and  encouraging  their 
choice. 

Stuart.  But  that 's  just  what  they 
won't  do,  and  which  I  don't  think  they 
could  to  any  extent,  even  if  they  tried. 
How  much  can  Mr.  Wortley  and  Mrs. 
Van  Tromp  control  Miss  Agnes'  compan- 
ions at  the  dinners  and  dances  and  other 
affairs,  which  are  practically  the  only  places 
where  she  meets  men  ? 

Fred.     Here  they  can. 

Stuart.  But  they  don't.  You  say  Mr. 
Wortley  favours  Newbank  and  Mrs.  Van 
Tromp  encourages  her  brother-in-law. 
Naturally,  then,  they  don't  approve  your 
very  evident  liking  for  Miss  Agnes.  Yet 
I  see  you  here  quite  as  often  as  either  of 
the  favoured  ones.  Do  you  think  if  this 
system  of  exclusion  were  possible,  it  would 
not  have  been  practised  long  ago  ? 


Man  Proposes  209 

Fred.  If  you  ask  it  as  a  conundrum  I 
give  it  up.  But  I  know  that  neither  of 
them  want  me  to  marry  Miss  Wortley. 
Mr.  Wortley  wishes  Newbank's  millions 
to  add  to  the  family.  Mrs.  Van  Tromp 
hopes  to  graft  Miss  Wortley  on  the  fine 
old  stock  of  Van  Tromps. 

Stuart.  And  what  does  the  person 
most  concerned  want?  In  this  glorious 
country  of  ours,  where  children  always 
know  more  than  parents,  the  girl's  consent 
is  really  the  only  requisite.  What  does 
Miss  Wortley  want  ? 

Fred.     I  only  wish  I  knew ! 

Stuart.  Well,  how  does  she  treat  you 
compared  with  the  other  men  ? 

Fred.  At  first  she  was  very  nice  and 
friendly,  but  latterly  she'll  have  nothing 
to  do  with  me. 

Stuart.     A  girl  of  taste  ! 

Fred.  I  'm  in  the  mood  to  enjoy  such 
friendly  jokes. 

Stuart.  It  was  meant  kindly,  Fred,  as 
you  will  see  in  a  moment.  Now,  my  boy, 
I  'm  going  to  give  you  a  talking  to,  and  if 


21  o         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

you  resent  it,  it  will  only  be  further  con- 
firmation of  another  little  theory  of  mine, 
that  a  man  's  an  ass  who  concerns  himself 
in  other  people's  affairs. 

Fred.  Go  ahead.  I  'm  blue  enough  to 
like  anything  sour  or  disagreeable. 

\_Sits,  desk  chair,  and  leans  on  desk. 

Stuart.  Now,  there  at  once  you  give 
me  the  text  to  preach  from.  (Walks  be- 
hind chair  I.  and  leans  on  back,  speaking 
over  it  down  r.}  About  a  year  ago  a 
certain  gentleman  named  Fred  meets  a 
certain  lady  named  Agnes.  We  '11  say  he 
met  her  at  a  dance  — 

Fred.     No,  it  was  yachting. 

Stuart.  Ah!  —  excuse  my  lack  of  his- 
torical accuracy.  Well,  on  a  yacht  —  he 
met  her ;  then  at  a  ball  —  he  met  her ; 
then  at  a  cotillion  —  he  met  her ;  then  at 
a  dinner  —  he  met  her.  In  short,  he  met 
her,  and  met  her,  and  met  her. 

Fred  (gloomily].  Yes,  and  what  is  more, 
he  spent  hours  trying  to. 

Stuart.   Well,  she  was  pretty  and  charm- 

":  and  —  I  'm  short  of  an  adjective,  Fred. 


Man  Proposes  211 

Fred.  Of  course  you  are  !  There  is  n't 
one  in  Webster's  Unabridged  which  would 
do  her  justice ! 

Stuart.  That  should  have  been  said  to 
her  and  not  wasted  on  me.  Well,  we  '11 
say  the  girl  is  plu-perfect.  The  fellow 
is  rather  good  looking  —  eh,  Fred  ? 

Fred.     I  don't  know. 

Stuart.  He  talks  and  dances  well ; 
and  is,  in  fact,  quite  a  shining  light  among 
her  devotees. 

Fred  (irritably).  Oh,  cut  it,  for  heaven's 
sake !  [Rises  impatiently. 

Stuart  (laughing].  Excuse  me,  —  the 
story-teller  never  cuts;  it's  the  editor 
who  does  that. 

Fred  (angrily).     Oh,  go  on. 

Stuart.  Well,  at  first  this  masculine 
paragon  whom  I  have  so  meagrely  de- 
scribed seems  to  be  doing  well.  She 
likes  his  society  and  shows  it.  (To  Fred.} 
Right  ? 

Fred.     I  thought  so. 

Stuart.  But  as  he  gets  more  interested, 
he  changes.  He  makes  his  attentions  and 


212         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

feelings  too  marked  —  something  no  girl 
likes.  Then  he  is  cross  and  moody  when 
she  does  not  give  him  most  of  her  time  and 
dances.  He  is  inclined  to  be  jealous  of 
every  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  who  comes 
near  her,  and  absurdly  tries  to  dictate 
what  she  shall  do  and  not  do ;  which  she 
resents.  In  short,  the  very  strength  of 
his  love  makes  him  an  entirely  different 
kind  of  a  man.  He  is  neither  compan- 
ionable nor  entertaining;  he  is  both  surly 
and  passionate.  Do  you  blame  her  for 
repulsing  him  ? 

Fred.  No,  you  are  right.  I  know 
I  've  given  her  reason  for  turning  me  the 
cold  shoulder. 

Stuart.  Then  if  you  've  known  this, 
why  have  n't  you  behaved  yourself  ? 

Fred.  I  've  tried  to,  over  and  over 
again;  but  when  I  see  such  cads  as  Van 
Tromp  and  Newbank  and  the  rest  of  the 
pack  around  her,  I  get  perfectly  desperate. 

Stuart.  And  why  ?  Now,  Van  Tromp 
is  not  only  a  fool,  which  I  suppose  is  the 
fault  of  his  ancestors,  but  he  is  so  impecu- 


Man  Proposes  2 1  3 

nious  that  every  girl  who  has  money  must 
suspect  his  motives.  Newbank  is  wealthy, 
but  is  the  kind  of  man  who  makes  one  think 
of  Wendell  Phillips'  remark,  that  "the 
Lord  showed  his  estimate  of  money  by  the 
people  he  gave  it  to."  Why  should  you 
be  jealous  of  such  rivals  ?  You  stand  at 
least  as  good  a  chance  as  they. 

Fred.  No  I  don't.  Look  here,  I  Ve 
just  been  made  a  member  of  the  firm. 
That  will  give  me  something  like  $4,000 
a  year  at  first.  How  can  I  ask  a  girl  living 
as  she  does  to  try  and  get  along  on  that  ? 

Stuart.     You  forget  her  own  income. 

Fred.  That's  just  what  I  can't  do.  I've 
tried  to  tell  her  that  I  love  her,  but  her 
money  makes  the  words  stick  in  my  throat. 

Stuart.  And  yet  Van  Tromp,  who 
has  n't  a  cent  in  the  world,  and  never  will 
have,  if  he  has  to  make  it  himself,  will  say 
it  as  glibly  as  need  be. 

Fred.  It 's  that  makes  me  desperate. 
I  try  to  be  good  company,  but  I  feel  all 
the  time  as  if  it  were  n't  an  even  race,  and 
so  I  can't. 


214          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart.  My  dear  boy,  no  race  in  this 
world  is  even.  If  it  were  anything  but  a 
woman's  heart  in  question,  I  would  bet  on 
you  as  the  winner ;  but  as  that  commodity 
is  only  to  be  represented  by  the  algebraic 
x,  I  never  wager  on  it. 

Fred  (scornfully).  How  learnedly  a 
bachelor  does  talk  of  women's  hearts! 
One  would  think  he  had  broken  a  lot 
in  order  to  examine  their  contents. 

Stuart  (a  little  angrily}.  I  never  lost 
a  girl  through  faint  heart,  —  or  lost  my 
temper  with  both  her  and  my  best  friend. 

Fred  [apologetically].  There!  Of  course 
you  are  right  and  I  am  a  fool. 

Stuart  [looking  at  watch}.  There  being 
no  dissent  to  that  opinion,  and  the  ladies 
being  now  ready  to  see  us,  you  had  better 
go  downstairs  and  show  Miss  Wortley 
that  the  Fred  Stevens  of  a  year  ago  is  still 
in  the  flesh. 

Fred  (going  to  b.  d}.     And  you  ? 

Stuart.  I  '11  stay  here  and  have  a  cigar. 

\Exit  FRED,  b.  d. 

Stuart  (taking  out  cigar-case}.     How  that 


Man  Proposes  2 1 5 

poor  fellow  does  carry  his  heart  in  view! 
(Takes  match  from  desk.}  No  wonder 
Miss  Wortley  keeps  hers  to  herself,  with 
such  an  example  !  [Strikes  match. 

Enter  POLLY,  /.  d.,  carrying  black  domino 
and  lace  mask. 

Stuart.  Hello !  One  minute,  please. 
Whose  domino  is  that  ? 

Polly  (halting].     I  must  n't  tell,  sir. 

Stuart.  No,  of  course  not.  Quite 
right.  (  Tosses  away  match  and  jingles  coins 
in  his  pocket.}  Perhaps,  though,  you  can 
tell  me  to  whom  you  are  carrying  it. 

Polly  (coming  down}.  Perhaps  I  might, 
sir. 

Stuart  (taking  out  money].     Well  ? 

Polly.  I  was  carrying  it  to  Mrs.  Van 
Tromp's  room,  sir. 

Stuart  (giving  money}.  Thank  you. 
(  Takes  domino  and  mask  from  her.}  Mr. 
Stuart  told  you  Miss  Wortley  wanted  you  to 
come  at  once  to  her,  and  so  you  left  these 
in  this  room  —  understand  ?  (Gives 
money.}  Now  be  off  to  your  mistress. 


2 1 6         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Polly.     Yes,  sir.  \_Exit  POLLY  /.  cL 

Stuart.  It 's  better  to  be  born  lucky 
than  rich.  ( Pats  domino  tenderly,  and 
arranges  it  neatly  in  chair  c.)  You  're 
luckier,  though,  for  you  belong  to  the 
dearest  and  most  heartless  woman  in  this 
world.  (Looks  at  mask.)  And  you  !  She 
does  n't  need  you  to  mask  her  feelings, 
confound  and  bless  her  inscrutable  face ! 
You'll  be  pressing  against  it  ere  long. 
(Kisses  mask.)  Take  that  to  her. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (outside}.     No,  I  sent  Polly 
for  my  domino,  but  she  has  n't  brought  it. 
Stuart.     Speaking   of   angels —      And 
she  must  n't  discover  that  I  know. 

\_Hurriedly  seizes  mask  and  domino 
and  tosses  them  behind  curtains 
of  bay  window ;  then  strikes  match 
as  if  about  to  light  cigar. 

MRS.    VAN  TROMP  appears  at   b.  d.  and 
looks  in. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Shall  it  be  a  cigar  or  my 
society  ?  "  Under  which  king,  Bezonian  ? 
Speak  or  die." 


Man  Proposes  217 

Stuart  (throwing  match  in  Jire).  That 
goes  without  saying.  The  cigar  is  my 
slave ;  I  am  Mrs.  Van  Tromp's ! 

Mrs.  V.  T.     Was  that  impromptu  ? 

Stuart.  Coined  for  the  occasion,  and 
needing  only  the  approval  of  your  majesty 
to  make  it  gold  in  my  eyes.  [Bows. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  I  am  too  good  a  queen  to  help 
stamp  worthless  money,  and  that 's  what  a 
compliment  is.  As  the  French  say,  "  Fine 
words  cost  nothing  and  are  worth  just 
what  they  cost." 

Stuart.  Anglise  in  "  Fine  words  but- 
ter no  parsnips."  You  know,  I  Ve  always 
wanted  to  send  that  proverb  to  Delmonico. 
He  takes  something  uneatable,  and  by 
giving  it  a  sauce  and  a  high-sounding 
French  title,  deludes  the  public  into  order- 
ing it.  You  pay  five  cents  for  the  basis, 
ten  for  the  sauce,  and  the  other  thirty-five 
for  the  French,  which  no  man  can  under- 
stand or  pronounce. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  He  did  n't  serve  this  even- 
ing's dinner. 

Stuart.     Far  be  it  from  me  to  suggest 


2i 8          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

that  there  was  anything  wrong  in  the 
cuisine  to-night.  The  only  criticism  I 
could  possibly  make  on  the  dinner  was  that 
there  were  twenty-four  too  many  people. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (counting  on  fingers]. 
Twenty-four  from  twenty-six  —  that  leaves 
two? 

Stuart.  Let  me  congratulate  you  on 
your  mental  arithmetic. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Have  you  actually  reached 
that  time  of  life  when  one  ceases  to  enjoy 
dinners  ? 

Stuart.  I  hope  not.  I  was  even  flat- 
tering myself  that  my  tastes  were  becom- 
ing more  juvenile. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  In  what  does  that  show 
itself? 

Stuart.  In  wanting  something  I  can't 
have.  I  believe  it 's  considered  infantile 
to  want  the  moon. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  You  want  the  moon  ? 
Then  you  must  be  in  love !  I  'm  so  sorry 
I  can't  stay  and  let  you  tell  me  all  about 
her.  I  came  upstairs  for  my  domino  and 
must  n't  tarry.  \Starts  up  back. 


Man  Proposes  219 

Stuart  (standing  between  her  and  the 
door).  One  moment,  Mrs.  Van  Tromp. 
I  '11  not  bore  you  with  my  own  love  affair, 
but  I  should  like  to  ask  your  help  in 
another. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (turning  and  coming  down 
/.).  I  promise  my  assistance.  I  love  to 
help  on  —  other  people's  love  affairs. 

Stuart.  There  is  a  poor  fellow  down- 
stairs who  is  eating  his  heart  out  with  love 
for  your  cousin  Agnes.  He  thinks  you 
are  against  him. 

Mrs.  V.  7".     You  mean  Mr.  Stevens  ? 

Stuart.     Yes. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Why,  Mr.  Stuart,  I  like 
Mr.  Stevens,  and  he  would  be  my  second 
choice  — 

Stuart  (interrupting).     For  yourself? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (laughing).  No,  for  Agnes. 
But  surely  you  don't  expect  me  to  work 
against  my  brother-in-law  ? 

Stuart.  But  Agnes  is  your  cousin. 
Do  consider  her! 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Mr.  Stuart,  I  married 
Alexander  Van  Tromp  without  caring 


22O          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

that  (snaps  her  fingers)  for  him.  Yet  wft 
hit  it  off  together  very  nicely.  He  ob- 
tained income  and  I  won  social  position. 
By  it  I  have  been  able  to  introduce  my 
uncle  into  good  society,  and  give  Agnes 
her  pick  of  the  best  Do  you  think  I  do 
her  wrong  in  planning  the  same  kind  of  a 
marriage  for  her  ? 

Sfuart.     Has  Cupid  no  rights? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  He  can  come  later.  The 
Van  Tromps  are  too  old  a  family  for  the 
members  to  live  long.  So  I  am  only  giv- 
ing Agnes  a  few  years  of  matrimony,  like 
my  own ;  and  then  —  well,  you  know 
whether  my  life  is  gloomy  or  otherwise. 

Stuart.     Mostly  otherwise,  I  should  say. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  No  girl  of  nineteen  knows 
enough  to  pick  out  the  man  she  can  break- 
fast with  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days 
in  the  year  for  half  a  century.  Moreover, 
a  young  girl  cannot  have  a  large  enough 
choice.  She  can  only  say  "  yes  "  or  "  no  " 
to  those  who  ask  her.  On  the  contrary,  a 
woman  of —  we  '11  say  twenty-eight  —  picks 
out  her  man  and  fascinates  him.  To 


Man  Proposes  221 

quote  the  French  again :  "  A  girl  of  sixteen 
accepts  love;  a  woman  of  thirty  incites 
it." 

Stuart.     As  you  have  been  doing? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Agnes  shall  sample  matri- 
mony with  Regie;  see  just  what  it  is  like  ; 
and  then  be  prepared  to  select  a  second 
time  with  wisdom  and  discrimination  — 
like  her  aged  and  venerable  cousin. 

Stuart  (hesitatingly).  Will  you  pardon 
the  question,  — but  was  Mr.  —  was,  ah,  the 
brother  of  Reginald  anything  like,  ah,  his 
brother  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.   (laughing].     Very! 

Stuart  (confidentially).  What  did  you 
do  with  him  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  On  the  day  we  married, 
he  put  a  ring  on  my  finger;  I  put  one 
through  his  nose.  Then  he  led  very 
nicely. 

Stuart.  And  is  that  your  ideal  of  a 
husband  ? 

Mrs.  V.T.  Unless  I  find  a  man  capa- 
ble of  not  merely  doing  the  leading,  but 
bv  whom  I  shall  wish  to  be  led. 


222          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart.  And  how  is  this  man  to  prove 
his  capacity? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Oh,  it 's  merely  a  matter 
of  cleverness  or  mastery.  Let  a  man  out- 
wit me,  and  I  will  (curtseys]  ever  after 
sign  myself,  "  Your  obedient,  humble 
servant." 

Stuart.  Don't  you  see  that  you  are 
bribing  your  own  undoing  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.     How  so  ? 

Stuart.  Why,  your  conditions  are  al- 
most in  the  nature  of  a  challenge.  Now 
you  know,  of  course,  Mrs.  Van  Tromp, 
that  I  don't  love  you,  yet  you  make  me 
want  to  enter  the  rather  formidable  com- 
petition just  to  see  if  I  could  n't  get  the 
better  of  you. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (laughing].  Well,  I  have  no 
wish  to  balk  you.  But  it  must  be  a  game 
of  forfeits.  If  you  fail,  you  must  pay  a 
penalty. 

Stuart.  Is  n't  failure  to  win  Mrs.  Van 
Tromp  penalty  enough  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Not  to  so  confirmed  a 
bachelor  as  Mr.  Stuart.  Come,  if  you 


Man  Proposes  223 

beat  me,  I  will  do  any  one  thing  you  wish  ; 
if  you  are  beaten,  you  must  do  the  one 
thing  I  wish.  Is  it  a  bargain  ? 

Stuart.  Done !  (Kissing-  Mrs.  V.  T.'s 
hand.)  Perdition  have  my  soul ! 

Mrs.  V.  T.  And  now  for  my  domino. 
[Hurries  up  and  exits  I.  d. 

Stuart  (at  I.  d.}.  But,  Mrs.  Van  Tromp, 
you  have  n't  told  me  in  what  I  am  to 
beat  you  ?  [Exit  STUART,  /.  d. 

Enter  CHARLIE  and  AGNES,  b.  d. 

Charlie.  Thith  ith  better  than  down 
thairth,  Mith  Wortley,  ith  n't  it  ? 

Agnes  (sinking  into  chair  c.  with  sigh}. 
Oh,  much  ! 

Charlie.  I  've  been  wanting  to  thug- 
geth  it  before,  Mith  Wortley,  but  that 
bore  Van  Tromp  wath  alwayth  round,  and 
if  he  heard  me,  he  would  intrude  hith 
thothiety  upon  uth. 

Agnes.  Why,  Mr.  Newbank,  I  thought 
you  were  friends. 

Charlie.  We  uthed  to  be,  till  the  fel- 
lowth  came  out  thuth  a  thnob. 


224          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Agnes.  That  is  where  you  men  have 
such  an  advantage.  Now  we  girls  have 
to  put  up  with  every  donkey  that  comes 
near  us. 

Charlie.  That  ith  hard,  Mith  Wortley. 
But  it  theemth  to  me  that  you  might 
thave  yourthelf  by  a  little  diplomathy. 

Agnes  (eagerly].     Do  tell  me  how ! 

Charlie.  Why  don't  you  get  rid  of 
Van  Tromp  ? 

Agnes.  Why,  I  can't  be  rude  to  him. 
You  must  remember  he  is  a  relation. 

Charlie.     I  did  n't  mean  rudneth. 

Agnes.     What  then  ? 

Charlie  Why,  he  athkth  you  to  danth  ; 
you  are  out  of  breath  or  tired.  He  thitth 
down  by  you ;  you  want  a  glath  of  lemon- 
ade, or  thomething  elth,  it  doth  n't  matter 
what. 

Agnes  (aside).  Does  he  really  think 
that's  an  original  idea?  (Aloud.)  How 
clever! 

Charlie.  Yeth,  I  rather  think  thatth  a 
good  nothon. 

Agnes.     Is  n't  it  warm  here  ? 


Man  Proposes  225 

Charlie.  Very.  I  Ve  thought  of  thug- 
gethting  that  we  open  a  window. 

Agnes.  Oh,  I  'm  so  afraid  of  drafts. 
Did  you  see  where  I  left  my  fan? 

Charlie.  No,  —  unleth  you  left  it  down 
thairth  in  the  library. 

Agnes.     Won't  you  see  if  I  did  ? 

Charlie  (going  up  I.  <$.).  With  the 
greateth  of  pleathure. 

Agnes.  And,  Mr.  Newbank,  (Charlie 
turns)  don't  tell  Mr.  Van  Tromp  I  'm 
here.  [REG.  appears  at  6.  d. 

Charlie.  I  '11  tell  any  lie  thooner. 
(Turns.)  Ah!!  (Politely.)  Mither  Van 
Tromp,  Mith  Wortley  ith  fatigued  and 
wanth  to  retht  a  little. 

Reg.  Aw!  Then  she  shows  gweat 
good  sense  in  sending  you  away. 

Charlie  (angrily).  Thir,  you  thould  n't 
inflict  your  thothiety  on  a  lady  who  hath 
juth  been  athking  me  how  to  get  rid  of  you. 

Reg.  (coolly).  I  hope  you  told  her  it 
was  by  keeping  you  about  her. 

Charlie.  If  thatth  the  cache,  I'll  be 
back  very  thoon.  \Exitsb.d. 

15 


226          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Reg.  Aw,  I  'm  deucid  sowy  that  boah 
Newbank  has  tired  you,  Miss  Wortley. 
You  weally  should  not  be  so  awfully  good 
natured,  don't  cher  know. 

Agnes.  Oh,  we  have  to  be,  and  he  's  no 
worse  than  a  lot  of  others. 

Reg.  I  jolly  wish,  you  know,  that  I 
could  save  you  fwom  it. 

Agnes.     Don't  you  think  it  warm  here? 

Reg.     Weally,  but  it  is,  pon  honour. 

Agnes.  And  I  'm  so  thirsty.  Would 
it  trouble  you  too  much  to  get  me  a  glass 
of  water? 

Reg.  ( rising  and  going  up  1.}.  Cha  wrned, 
I  assure  you. 

CHARLIE  appears  b.  d.  and  they  run  into 
each  other. 

Reg.  Aw,  I  thought  you  were  going 
to  allow  Miss  Wortley  a  little  west. 

Charlie.  Thatth  why  I  wath  coming 
back.  I  did  n't  think  the  would  thend 
you  away. 

Reg.  I  '11  be  back  soon,  deah  boy. 

\Exits  b.  d. 


Man  Proposes  227 

Charlie.  I  'm  thorry,  Mith  Wortley, 
but  your  fan  ith  not  in  the  library. 

Agnes  (aside].  Tell  me  something  I 
don't  know.  {Aloud)  Have  the  rest  of 
the  men  finished  their  cigars  ? 

Charlie.     Yeth. 

Agnes.     I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  down. 

[Rises. 

Charlie.  Yeth,  we  '11  go  together,  and 
tho  ethcape  Van  Tromp. 

Agnes  (aside).  What  a  pity  some  glue 
company  can't  buy  those  two  and  melt 
them  down  into  mucilage  !  (Aloud.}  Yes, 
but  first  won't  you  see  if  I  did  n't  leave 
my  fan  on  the  piano  in  the  music-room  ? 

Charlie.     Why,   thertainly. 

[Starts  up  to  b.  d. 

Agnes  (aside).  While  you  're  gone  I  '11 
get  into  my  domino,  and  if  you  catch  me 
afterwards,  it 's  my  fault. 

\_Exit  CHARLIE.     Loud  exclamation 
outside. 

Charlie  (outside).  You  donkey,  you  ran 
into  me  on  purpoth,  and  thpilled  that 
water  on  me. 


228          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Agnes.  Do  for  once  temper  the  wind 
to  the  shorn  lamb  ! 

\_Looks  around  room  helplessly,  and 
then  rushes  to  bay  window  and 
hides. 

Reg.  (outside}.  I  beg  pavvdon,  but  it  was 
you  who  wan  into  me.  Cawnt  cher  see 
where  you  are  going? 

REG.  appears  b.  d.  with  a  glass  containing 
very  little  water,  wiping  his  coat  sleeve 
with  handkerchief,  and  looking  angrily 
after  CHARLIE. 

Reg.  I  'm  deucid  sowy,  Miss  Wortley, 
but  that  clumsy  fool  has  spilled  most  of 
the  water  (coming  down).  One  can  always 
tell  the  nouveaux  wiche  by  their  gaucher- 
wies.  ( Finds  chair  empty  — starts,  and  looks 
round  room}  Pon  honour,  if  he  has  n't 
dwiven  her  away  !  \Stands  looking  about. 

CHARLIE  appears  at  b.  d. 
Charlie.     I  met  your  maid,  Mith  Wort- 
ley,  and  the  thaid  your  fan  wath  in  your 
room,  (coming  down  r.)  and  that  the  '11  get 
it.    (Discovers  Agnes  absence}     Now  then, 


Man   Proposes  229 

I  hope  you  are  thatithfied  with  having 
driven  her  away. 

Reg.     Oh,  I  dwove  her  away,  did  I? 

Charlie.     Yeth. 

Reg.  (laughing).    That  is  wich  ! 

Charlie.  Well,  thath  more  than  you 
are  ! 

Reg.  Cholly  Newbank,  you  get  worse 
form  everwy  day. 

Enter  POLLY  with  fan  I.  d. 

Polly.     Here  is  the  fan,  Mr.  Newbank. 
Charlie   (taking  fan\     Can  you  tell  me 
where  Mith  Wortley  ith  ? 

Polly   (starting  to  go).     No,  sir. 

STUART  appears   in  b.  d.  and  stands  and 
listens. 

Charlie.  One  moment,  girl.  (To  Reg?) 
Mither  Van  Tromp,  will  you  oblige  me 
by  leaving  the  room  ? 

Reg.  By  Jove !  The  bwass  of  the  man 
would  start  a  foundwy. 

\Sits  chair  I.  with  emphasis. 

Charlie.  Thir,  in  the  future  I  thall 
refuth  to  recognith  you. 


230          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Reg.     Thanks,  awfully. 

Charlie  (taking  bank-note  from  pocket\ 
Girl,  do  you  thee  thith  ? 

Polly.     Oh,  yes,  sir. 

Charlie.  What  ith  Mith  Wortleyth 
domino  like  ? 

Polly.  Oh,  indeed,  sir,  I  don't  dare  to 
tell  you. 

Charlie.  Nonthenth  !  The  '11  never  know 
who  told.  You  might  ath  well  make  five 
dollarth. 

Polly.     But  Mr.  Van  Tromp  might  tell. 

Reg.  (with  extreme  dignity).  Mr.  Van 
Tromp  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to 
either  bwibe  or  tell  tales. 

Charlie.     But  he  11  lithen  all  the  thame ! 

Polly  (fearfully}.  She 's  going  to  wear 
a  white  silk  one  with  cardinal  ribbons,  and 
a  black  lace  veil. 

[Receives  note  and  exits  I. 

Charlie  (triumphantly).  Ah  1  Now  I 
have  her. 

Reg.  Deucid  sowy  to  spoil  your  little 
dweam,  but  I  fahncy  I  shall  speak  to  her 
myself  this  evening. 


Man  Proposes  231 

Charlie  (gleefully].  All  right.  The 
knowth  you  are  after  her  money. 

Stuart  (coming  down}.  Ah  !  Damon 
and  Pythias  together  as  usual.  It  really 
gives  one  faith  in  friendship  to  see  how 
you  two  fellows  run  together. 

Charlie.  Mither  Thuart,  did  you  ever 
hear  anything  more  nonthenthical  than 
for  Van  Tromp  to  thuppothe  that  Mith 
Wortley  ith  going  to  thave  him  from  the 
poorhouth  ? 

Reg.  (with  dignity).  Mr.  Stuart  will 
tell  you  that  a  born  gentleman  can  do 
much  that  is  impossible  to  the  canaille. 

Charlie  (angrily).  What  do  you  mean 
by  that,  thir? 

Reg.    Pway  dwaw  your  own  conclusions. 

Stuart  (sitting  on  desk}.  And  so  you 
two  bloods  intend  to  question  the  oracle  ? 
I  had  n't  credited  you  with  the  courage. 

Charlie.  It  doth  n't  need  much  when 
one  knowth  what  the  anther  will  be. 

Reg.  (confidently}.  I  'm  not  afwaid  for 
my  part,  but  even  "  no "  would  n't  make 
me  commit  suicide. 


232          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Charlie.  Thath  prethuth  fortunate  for 
you,  but  hard  on  the  reth  of  uth. 

Stuart  (quizzically).  Oh,  it 's  easy 
enough  to  propose  to  a  girl  when  she 
is  n't  present.  You  fellows  forget  that 
Miss  Wortley  is  a  masked  battery  this 
evening.  It  takes  pluck  to  face  one  of 
them,  and  I  don't  believe  you  '11  either  of 
you  dare  do  it. 

Charlie.     I  'd  like  to  bet  a  monkey  I  will. 

Stuart.  Done !  And  do  the  same  with 
you,  Van  Tromp. 

Charlie.     He  hath  n't  the  money. 

Reg.  (glancing  scornfully  at  Charlie]. 
You  '11  oblige  me  gweatly  by  minding 
your  own  affairs.  Done,  Mr.  Stuart. 

Enter  FRED  b.  d. 

Stuart.  Ah,  Fred,  you  Ve  just  missed 
a  rare  bit  of  sport. 

Fred.     What  was  that  ? 

Stuart.     Why,  we  Ve  just  wagered  — 

Reg.  (dignified].  I  beg  pawdon,  Mr. 
Stuart,  but  I  had  always  supposed  a  wager 
was  a  confidential  mattah. 


Man   Proposes  233 

[  Walks  with  dignity  up  r.  and  exits 
'  b.d. 

Charlie.  For  onth  in  hith  life,  Van 
Tromp  ith  right. 

\Bows    grandly    and  goes    up    I. 
Exits  b.  d. 

Stuart  {laughing}.  I  thought  that  would 
get  rid  of  them.  Well,  have  you  shown 
Miss  Wortley  that  you  can  still  be  occa- 
sionally jolly  ? 

Fred  (gloomily).  I  have  n't  had  the 
chance.  She  must  be  in  her  room,  for 
I  Ve  looked  everywhere  else  for  her.  Not 
that  it 's  much  loss.  I  know  I  should  not 
have  been  in  the  mood  to  please  her. 

Stuart.  That 's  because  you  don't  try 
hard  enough. 

Fred  (bitterly}.  Hear  the  bachelor 
talk  of  making  love  ! 

Stuart.     You  think  me  ignorant? 

Fred.  Rather,  —  judging  from  the  re- 
sults. 

Stuart  (resting  hand  on  Fred's  shoulder]. 
Fred,  I  'm  not  the  kind  of  a  man  who 
lets  the  world  know  what  he  's  thinking 


234         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

about.  With  all  due  respect  to  a  young 
fellow  who  is  not  far  distant,  it  does  n't 
pay  to  show  one's  feelings  too  much.  But 
I  'm  going  to  tell  you  my  bit  of  romance 
as  an  object-lesson.  Two  months  ago  I  met 
the  most  charming  woman  in  the  world, 
and  could  no  more  help  falling  in  love  — 

Fred  (looking  up  in  surprise).  What! 
The  ideal  bachelor  in  love  ? 

Stiiart.  I  don't  see  why  two  and 
forty  should  be  debarred  from  that  uni- 
versal sensation,  any  more  than  four 
and  twenty. 

Fred.  Oh,  of  course  not,  —  only,  to 
make  an  Irish  bull,  we  had  all  grown  to 
think  you  as  wedded  to  celibacy. 

Stuart.  There  are  divorces  and  deser- 
tions in  celibacy  as  well  as  in  matrimony. 
Well,  I  love  this  woman ;  I  don't  think 
she  loves  me,  —  though  you  never  can  tell 
with  a  clever  one,  and  sometimes  I  think 
she  is  beginning  to  like  me,  because  she 
—  because  she  tries  to  make  me  believe 
she  is  worse  than  she  is.  She  delights  in 
making  me  think  she's  a  devil,  which 


Man   Proposes  235 

shows  that  she  is  a  bit  afraid  of  me.  I  \-e 
never  said  a  word  of  my  love  to  her,  but 
she  knows  it  as  well  as  I  do.  But  nobody 
else  dreams  of  it.  I  don't  make  my  atten- 
tions so  obvious  that  every  one  sees  them, 
and  so  cause  her  embarrassment  when- 
ever I  even  come  into  the  room.  I  don't 
cut  up  rough  if  she  talks  or  dances  with 
other  fellows.  I  simply  try  to  be  pleasant 
and  useful  enough  to  make  her  prefer  my 
society  to  that  of  any  other  man. 

Fred  (sighing).  Well,  of  course  you 
are  right,  but  —  tell  me  what  you  think  I 
ought  to  do. 

Stuart  (walking  to  desk  and  holding  bell). 
What  do  you  suppose  would  happen  if  I 
rang  this  ?  [Rings. 

Fred.  That  doesn't  answer  my  ques- 
tion. 

Stuart.  I  want  to  see  if  the  bell  won't 
save  me  the  trouble. 

Enter  POLLY,  /.  d. 

Polly.     Did  you  ring,  sir  ? 

Stuart.     Yes,  I  want  to  find  out  if  you 


236          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

told  the  truth  about  Miss  Wortley 's 
domino? 

Polly  (embarrassed].  Well,  sir,  Miss 
Wortley  has  two  dominos,  and  I  don't 
know  which  she  intends  to  wear  first. 

Stuart.  What  is  the  other  domino 
like  ? 

Polly.     It's  blue  with  silver  lace. 

Stuart.  What  will  you  charge  me  to 
wear  the  white  and  cardinal  one  this 
evening,  leaving  Miss  Wortley  only  the 
blue  and  silver  one  ? 

Polly  (eagerly).  Oh,  Mr.  Stuart,  that 's 
just  what  I  Ve  wanted  to  do,  but  have  n't 
dared !  Please  don't  tempt  me. 

Stuart.  Fudge  !  If  you  '11  do  as  I  '11 
tell  you,  you  shall  have  a  year's  wages 
to-morrow. 

Polly.     Gracious ! ! 

Stuart.     Is  it  a  bargain  ? 

Polly  (eagerly).  Yes,  sir.  What  am  I 
to  do? 

Stuart.  H'm.  Can  you  write  a  good 
hand? 

Polly.     Ask  Mr.- Stevens? 


Man   Proposes  237 

Stuart  (reproachfully}.     Oh,  Fred  !  I 
Fred.     I  don't  know  what  she  means. 
Polly.     I  wrote  that  note  to-day  thank- 
ing you  for  the  flowers  :  I  write  nearly  all 
Miss  Wortley's  notes. 
Fred.     Bosh ! 

\_During  letter-writing  he  surrepti- 
tiously  dives    into    inside  pocket 
and  produces  glove,  handkerchief, 
faded  flowers,  and  letters  tied  with 
ribbon.      Examines    letters,    and 
then  crosses  to  mantel,  tears  them 
up,  and  throws  them  into  Jire. 
Stuart.     Good  !     It  could  n't  be  better. 
They'll  think  it 's  Miss  Wortley's  hand- 
writing.    Sit  down  at  that  desk  and  write 
as  I  dictate. 

Polly.     Yes,  sir. 

\Sits   at  desk  —  business  of  letter- 
writing. 

Stuart.  "  My  own  :  Driven  to  the 
verge  of  desperation  by  the  parasites  who 
cluster  about  my  wealth,  I  long  for  noth- 
ing but  a  refuge.  This  you  can  give  me, 
and  if  you  cherish  one  emotion  of  tender- 


238          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

ness  for  me,  you  will  be  in  the  little  morn- 
ing room  at  twelve.  A."  Address  that 
to  Newbank.  Now  take  another  sheet. 
"  Reginald  :  If  you  have  one  spark  of  af- 
fection for  me,  keep  me  no  longer  in  sus- 
pense !  I  shall  be  in  the  little  morning 
room  over  the  supper-room  at  ten  minutes 
after  twelve.  Fly  then  to  your  loving  but 
unhappy  A."  Address  that  to  Van 
Tromp.  Now,  Polly,  you  must  deliver 
those  notes  in  person,  get  into  Miss 
Wortley's  domino,  and  be  here  at  that 
time.  Newbank  will  propose  to  you,  and 
you  must  accept  him  and  get  rid  of  him. 
Then  you  must  do  the  same  to  Van 
Tromp.  Understand  ? 

Polly.     Yes,  Mr.  Stuart. 

\_Rises  with  two  notes  in  hand. 

Stuart.  And  you  must  n't  let  them 
find  out  their  mistake  till  to-morrow. 

\_Exits  POLLY  b.  d. 

Fred.    Do  you  think  that 's  honourable  ? 

Stuart.  It 's  too  soon  after  dinner  for 
me  to  discuss  ethics.  But  for  you  it 's 
the  chance  of  a  lifetime.  You  know 


Man  Proposes  239 

what  Miss  Wortley  is  to  wear.  Go  and 
make  yourself  agreeable  to  her,  and  if  her 
mask  gives  you  courage,  tell  her  that  you 
love  her. 

Fred.  You  don't  understand.  I  'm  not 
afraid  to  tell  her  that  to  her  face.  It 's 
not  the  woman  I  'm  afraid  of  If  she 
were  poor,  I  could  have  said  to  her  as  I 
say  to  myself,  fifty  times  a  day,  "  I  love 
you."  But  I  can't  say  that  to  her  money. 

Stuart.  And  so  you  are  going  to  place 
your  Brunhilde  on  the  top  of  her  gold  and 
then  fear  to  climb  the  fiery  mountain  ? 
Why,  Fred,  tell  her  that  you  love  her,  and 
leave  it  for  her  to  decide  whether  it 's  the 
woman  or  the  wealth  you  care  for. 

Fred.  I  can't  bear  to  give  her  the 
chance  even  to  think  I  'm  sordid. 

Stuart.  Nonsense,  my  boy !  Go  and 
tell  Miss  Wortley  that  you  love  her  before 
it 's  too  late.  Make  her  the  prettiest  com- 
pliment a  man  can  pay  a  woman,  and  if 
she  has  the  bad  taste  to  think  it 's  her 
money  and  not  her  beauty  and  sweetness, 
you  are  no  worse  off. 


240          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Fred.  Mr.  Stuart,  I  Ve  tried  to  say  it 
and  to  write  it.  I  Ve  begun  sentence  after 
sentence ;  I  Ve  torn  up  letter  after  letter. 
It 's  no  good. 

Stuart  (wearily).  I  don't  see  anything 
to  be  done,  except  to  get  your  proposal 
made  by  proxy.  (Stops  short  in  walkl) 
By  Jove,  that's  an  idea. 

Fred.     What? 

Stuart  (triumphantly).  I  have  it.  I  '11 
get  into  a  domino,  pass  myself  off  for  you, 
and  propose.  \Goes  up  back. 

Fred  (angrily).  You  '11  do  nothing  of 
the  kind ! 

Stuart.     Why  not  ? 

Fred.  Mr.  Stuart,  your  proposition 
is  simply  insulting.  A  moment  since 
you  said  that  a  declaration  of  love  was 
the  greatest  compliment  a  man  could 
pay  a  woman,  and  now  you  would  turn 
it  into  a  joke  or  trick.  Do  you  think 
I  will  allow  the  woman  I  love  to  be  so 
treated  ? 

Stuart  (soothingly).  All  right.  We  '11 
say  no  more  about  it.  \_At  b.  d. 


Man  Proposes  241 

Fred.  Then  give  me  your  word  you 
won't. 

Stuart.     That 's  another  matter. 

Fred.  Then  I  shall  at  once  find  Miss 
Wortley  and  — 

Stttart  (interrupting}.  Tell  her  all  about 
it.  That 's  right.  You  will  have  told  her 
that  you  love  her.  \_Exits  b.  d. 

Fred  (following).     Not  at  all !     I  shall 

simply  keep  near  her,  and  if  you  make  the 

attempt  I  shall  interfere.  \_Exits  b.  d. 

[AGNES  rises  from  concealment,  peeks 

out  and  comes  down  c,  with  MRS. 

V.  T.'s  domino  and  mask  on  her 

arm. 

Agnes.  At  last!  I  began  to  think  I 
should  have  to  spend  the  night  there,  — 
though  I  did  nearly  burst  in  on  them  two 
or  three  times.  And  that 's  the  way  men 
discuss  women !  (Scornfully^)  So,  Mr. 
Van  Tromp,  I  'm  to  save  you  from  the 
poorhouse!  And  "no"  wouldn't  make 
you  commit  suicide !  And  you  're  not 
afraid  of  what  my  answer  will  be,  Mr. 
Newbank  !  Oh  !  ! !  (Laughs^  I  should 

16 


242          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

like  to  hear  their  proposals  to  Polly.  I  've 
always  thought  that  girl  a  treasure,  but  she 
gets  her  dismissal  to-morrow.  The  idea  of 
wearing  my  domino,  and  telling  all  those 
men  what  I  was  to  wear!  And  telling 
Mr.  Stevens  that  she  wrote  my  letters  for 
me !  (Anxiously.}  What  must  he  think 
of  me !  And  the  only  one  of  them  too 
who  seemed  to  think  I  deserve  the  com- 
monest courtesy.  "  I  could  say  to  Miss 
Wortley,  as  I  say  to  myself  fifty  times  a 
day,  I  love  you."  (Demurely.}  That  was 
nice !  I  wonder  if  he  —  I  wonder  if 
Mr.  Stuart  will  propose  to  me  ?  I 
never  thought  he  would  behave  so  badly. 
(Pacing  across  stage  meditatively^)  How 
can  I  turn  the  tables  and  punish  them  all  ? 
Let  me  see  —  (checking  off  on  fingers)  — 
the  two  puppies  will  be  punished  by  the 
loss  of  their  bets  and  —  me !  Polly  will 
lose  her  position.  Now  — 

Enter  MRS.  V.  T.  /.  d. 

Mrs.  V.  T.     Oh,  Agnes,  I  can't  find  my 
domino  any  where,  and —  Why,  you  have  it! 


Man  Proposes  243 

Agnes  (as  if  seized  with  an  inspiration). 
Frances,  you  must  let  me  change  dominos 
and  masks  with  you. 

Mrs.  V.  T.     What  for? 

Agnes.  Mr.  Stuart  has  bribed  Polly  to 
tell  about  our  dominos,  —  and  he  's  going 
to  propose  to  my  blue  one. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (incredulously}.  What,  —  to 
you? 

Agnes  (embarrassed).  Oh !  That  is  — 
Well  —  he  's  —  You  see  it 's  —  he  's  only 
asking  for  some  one  else." 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Oh,  I  see !  Some  one 
who  has  n't  dared  ? 

Agnes.     Yes.    Mr.  Newbank  is  so  — 

Mrs.  V.  T.     Of  course.     He  is  shy. 

Agnes.  Very.  (Hurriedly?)  And  so  I 
thought  we  could  change  dominos,  and  — 
and — don't  you  see? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (reflectively].  But  then  — 
Would  n't—  Oh !  Why,  of  course  I  will. 
Here,  let  me  help  you  on  with  it;  and  now 
run  along  downstairs.  The  dancing  is  in 
full  swing. 

Agnes   (going  up}.      I  '11   go  at    once. 


244          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

(Turns  in  b.d.}     You  will  find  my  domino 
in  my  dressing-room.  \_Exits  I.  d. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (reflectively).  And  so  Mr. 
Stuart  is  going  to  propose  to  a  blue 
domino  —  that 's  me  —  on  behalf  of  Mr. 
Stevens  ?  (Laughs.}  There 's  a  nice  game 
of  cross  purposes.  Ah,  sir,  you  '11  have 
to  be  cleverer  than  that  to —  What  a 
chance  to  beat  him!  Let  me  see. 

STUART  appears  at  b.  d. 

Stuart.     Not  masked  yet  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Ah!  Mr.  Stuart,  I  am 
ready  to  name  our  game  of  forfeits. 

Stuart  (coming  down).     Bravo  ! 

Mrs.  V.  T.  You  want  to  win  my 
cousin  for  Mr.  Stevens.  Succeed,  and  you 
shall  name  whatever  forfeit  you  choose. 
Fail,  and  I  set  what  penalty  I  please. 

Stuart.     Agreed. 

Mrs.  V.  T.     But  I  warn  you:    I  shall 
stoop  to  anything  rather  than  be  beaten 
If  a    man  is    honourable  he  will  be  at  a 
great  disadvantage.     Like  Faust,  I    have 
made  a  pact  with  the  devil. 


Man   Proposes  245 

Stuart.  Better  take  a  partner  with 
whom  I  am  on  less  friendly  relations. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  He  is  not  on  so  good 
terms  with  you  as  with  me.  Don't  you 
know  that  women  are  extremes  ?  That 
they  are  either  a  great  deal  better  or 
worse  than  men  ? 

Stuart.  I  have  always  heard  that 
women  said  spiteful  things  of  their  sex, 
but  I  don't  think  it 's  nice  of  you  to  make 
such  speeches  about  the  one  I  care  for. 
One  would  almost  think  you  were  jealous 
of  her. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (throwing  glove  on  floor). 
There  is  my  challenge  to  the  combat. 

Stuart  (picking  it  up).    I  accept  the  gage. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (holding  out  hand}.  But 
not  to  keep  it. 

Stuart.  I  will  only  return  the  glove 
without  the^. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  And  without  that  letter, 
I  prefer  to  get  a  new  pair.  [Going  up. 

Stuart  (following).    Then  it  is  real  war  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  War,  fierce  and  merciless. 
{Exit  MRS.  V.  T.  and  STUART,  b.  d. 


246          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

POLLY  peeks  in  I.  d.,  then  enters  with  white 
domino  and  mask  on  arm. 

Polly.  I  did  n't  dare  to  put  this  on 
(putting  on  domino  and  mask}  in  Miss 
Wortley's  room  for  fear  she  might  come 
in.  What  will  she  say  when  she  only 
finds  one  ?  My  !  I  shall  have  to  keep  out 
of  her  way  this  evening,  or  she  will  want 
to  know  who  is  wearing  it.  (Looking  down 
at  domino.}  Oh,  I  wish  I  dared  go  to 
Miss  Wortley's  dressing-room  and  look  at 
myself  in  the  glass!  (Walks  off^  looking 
behind  her}  I  will.  (Goes  up  to  I.  d.  and 
starts  to  exit}  Oh,  Jiminy  ! 

[  Turns  and  rushes  "out  b.  d. 

Enter   AGNES  /.  d.  in   domino,  and  with 
mask  in  her  hand. 

Agnes  (coming  down}.  I  changed  my 
mind  about  going  downstairs,  for  I  had 
rather  miss  all  the  dancing  in  the  world 
than  puppydom's  love-making  to  the  back- 
stairs. I  could  almost  forgive  Polly  when 
I  think  of  what  I  have  in  store.  (Crosses 


Man   Proposes  247 

r.  and  looks  through  curtains  at  bay  win- 
dow^) From  my  hiding-place,  I  '11  hear 
every  word  of  it.  (Goes  to  mantel  and 
looks  at  clock.}  Quarter  to  twelve  —  I'm 
early ! 

STUART  appears  at  b.  d.  and  looks  in. 

Agnes.  Ah  !      [Hurriedly  masks  herself. 

Stuart  (aside).  That 's  the  quickest 
change  I  ever  saw.  I  only  just  left  her  at 
the  door  of  her  room !  ( Comes  down.}  Are 
you  practising  lightning  transformations  ? 

Agnes.     Comment  $a  va-t-il,  Monsieur? 

Stuart  (regretfully}.  I  'm  sorry,  but  I 
don't  understand  French.  (Aside.}  Whop- 
per number  one. 

Agnes.     Wie  gehts  ? 

Stuart.  Nor  German.  (Aside.)  Num- 
ber two. 

Agnes.     Buenas  noches,  senor  ? 

Stuart  (wearily).  And  on  Spanish  I'  m 
an  entire  failure.  (Aside.)  The  recording 
angel  did  n't  catch  me  that  time ! 

Agnes.  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  what 
you  do  speak  ? 


248          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart  (gallantly  and  bowing).  In  your 
society  only  the  universal  language. 

Agnes.  And  I  don't  understand  Volapiik. 

Stuart.  Volapiik !  That 's  not  the  one 
of  which  I  speak. 

Agnes.     And  of  what,  then  ? 

Stitart.  To  the  language  which  without 
instruction  is  known  around  the  world ; 
to  the  language  that 's  spoken  by  all  classes, 
and  is  never  out  of  fashion ;  to  the  language 
that  has  no  dictionary ;  yet  which  possesses 
the  most  beautiful  vocabulary  in  the  uni- 
verse. 

Agnes.  I  don't  remember  any  such  in 
my  text-book  on  philology. 

Stuart.  It  is  too  real  to  be  taught  in 
schools.  Nor  were  you  old  enough  to 
understand  it  had  it  been.  I  speak  of  the 
language  of  love. 

Agnes.  Of  course;  I  suppose  it  is  a 
universal  tongue.  (Satirically^)  But  so 
few  can  speak  it  well.  Don't  you  think  it 
ought  to  be  left  to  the  poets  ? 

Stuart.  I  love  the  future  of  the  human 
race  too  much  to  wish  that.  Think  of  the 


Man  Proposes  249 

frightful  increase  of  bad  rhymers  it  wo  aid 
cause,  —  and  that  too  with  the  markets 
already  overstocked. 

Agnes.  But  would  that  be  any  worse 
than  to  see  the  average  unromantic  bread- 
winner make  love  ?  It 's  very  hard  on  our 
sex  to  appear  sympathetic.  Most  men  do 
it  about  as  successfully  as  a  hippopotamus 
would  waltz. 

Stuart.  Are  n't  you  a  little  unfair,  Mrs. 
Van  Tromp  ? 

Agnes.  And  so  you  think  I  am  Mrs. 
Van  Tromp  ? 

Stuart.  I  don't  think  it;  I  know  it.  Do 
you  think  for  a  moment  you  could  deceive 
me  ?  But  that  does  n't  answer  my  question. 

Agnes.  As  to  the  justice  of  my  criti- 
cism on  the  way  men  propose  ?  (  With  af- 
fected coyness?)  Perhaps  I  have  had  too 
little  experience  to  speak  with  knowledge. 

Stuart.  Mrs.  Van  Tromp  would  not 
dare  to  say  that  unmasked.  Her  face 
would  give  her  tongue  the  lie. 

Agnes.  I  fancy  you  are  the  first  man 
who  ever  turned  calling  one  a  liar  into  a 
compliment. 


250          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart.  Since  that  is  possible,  may  not 
a  poetic  proposal  be  also  ? 

Agnes.  Perhaps.  And  when  I  hear 
one  that  does  not  make  me  want  to  laugh, 
I  '11  make  public  recantation. 

Stuart.  It 's  a  bold  man  or  a  fool  who  'd 
venture  after  what  you  have  said.  And  yet 
I  should  like  to  try. 

Agnes  (laughing].  Why,  Mr.  Stuart, 
what  would  you  do  if  I  were  to  take  you 
seriously  and  say  yes  ? 

Stuart  (with  mock  resignation}.  Bear 
it  —  like  a  man.  But  I  am  quite  safe  from 
that  danger !  I  trust  you  won't  mind  if  in 
the  passion  of  the  moment  I  call  you 
Frances. 

Agnes.  This  once  I  '11  condone  the 
liberty. 

Stuart  (coming  very  close  to  Agnes). 
And  if  I  should  so  far  forget  myself  as  to 
try  and  —  well,  behave  as  lovers  generally 
do? 

Agnes  (retreating).  Oh,  Mrs.  Van 
Tromp  is  quite  safe  from  that. 

\Slips  past  STUART  and  crosses  to  /. 


Man  Proposes  251 

Stuart  (aside).  Don't  be  too  sure  of 
that. 

Agnes.     Well,  begin. 

Stuart  (crossing  to  chaired).  Now  that 's 
no  way  to  give  a  lover  an  opening.  I 
want  this  to  have  verisimilitude.  In  real  life 
you  don't  as  good  as  say  to  the  man  (sits 
very  much  on  the  edge  of  chair  c.}  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  his  chair,  '  Please  begin.'  Do 
let 's  make  it  realistic. 

Agnes  (laughing).  Even  to  the  mitten  ? 
Very  well.  (Imitating  society  manner?) 
I  did  n't  see  you  at  Mrs.  Grainger's  rose- 
cotillion  Tuesday,  Mr.  Stuart. 

Charlie  (without}.  Ah  !  My  angel, 
we  meet. 

Agnes  (seizing  Stuarfs  hand].  Quick  ! 
Come ! 

{Drags  him  over  to  bay  window,  where 
she  conceals  both  with  curtain. 

Enter   POLLY,  in  mask   and  domino,  and 

CHARLIE  b.  d. 

Charlie.  My  own !  What  can  I  do  to 
thow  my  gratitude  ? 


252          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Polly.  If  you  but  knew  how  I  have 
trembled  at  my  unmaidenly  imprudence  in 
writing  you ! 

Charlie.  My  angel,  love  knowth  no 
prudenth  ;  no  boundth  can  limit  it. 

Polly.  And  you  don't  scorn  and  des- 
pise me  ? 

Charlie.     Thcorn  ?  Dethpithe  ?  Never. 

Polly.  And  you  don't  think  me  un- 
maidenly ? 

Charlie.  It  ith  impothible.  You  are 
nothing  but  what  ith  perfect  and  beau- 
tiful. 

Polly  (sighing).     Ah ! 

Charlie  (sighing).  Ah !  (Reaches  out 
and  takes  her  hand?)  Mith  Wortley,  did 
you  mean  what  you  thaid  in  your  letter  ? 

Polly  (languishing].     Can  you  doubt  it  ? 

Charlie.  And  you  really  love  your 
Cholly? 

Polly  (  tenderly).     Oh,  Cholly ! 

Charlie  (kneeling).  And  you  really  want 
to  marry  your  Cholly  ? 

Polly  (faintly).     Oh,  Cholly ! 


Man  Proposes  253 

REGINALD  appears  b.  d.  and  enters. 

Reg.  Miss  Wortley,  I  have  hurvvied 
to  your  side.  And  none  too  soon,  it 
appears. 

Charlie  (jumping  to  his  feet  and  speak- 
ing very  angrily).  You  thpethimen  of  the 
horroth  of  heredity,  you  get  out  of  here ! 

Polly  (sotto  voce  to  Charlie).  Oh, 
please  don't  make  a  disturbance !  Re- 
member whose  house  it  is !  Leave  us  and 
I  '11  get  rid  of  him  and  follow. 

Charlie.  My  angel,  I  can  refuth  you 
nothing.  (Goes  up  stage  and  speaks  to 
Reg?)  Thir,  you  owe  your  thafety  to  that 
lady.  \_Exit  b.  d. 

Reg.  (coming  down).  Miss  Wortley,  I 
am  deucid  sovvy  that  epitome  of  bad  form 
has  been  borwing  you. 

Polly.  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that.  I  was 
only  afraid  he  was  going  to  misbehave. 

Reg.  Aw,  the  cad 's  always  doing 
that,  don'tcher  know. 

Polly.  Oh,  Mr.  Van  Tromp,  what  must 
you  think  of  me  ! 


254          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Reg.  Think  of  you  ?  The  woman 
Reginald  De  Lancey  Van  Tromp  loves  is 
above  thought.  In  but  one  way  can  the 
loveliest  of  her  sex  offend  me. 

Polly  (eagerly].  Ah  !  Tell  me,  so  that  I 
may  never  do  it. 

Reg.  By  wefusing  the  heart  and  hand 
he  (kneeling}  places  at  her  feet. 

Polly.  Oh !  I  am  faint  with  too  great 
happiness.  (Leans on  Reg}  Reginald,  sup- 
port —  Oh,  Jiminy  !  Some  one 's  coming. 
\_RecoverS)  and  rushes  up  I.  to  I.  b., 
exit  I.  d.  followed  by  REG. 

Enter  MRS.  VAN  TROMP  and  FRED,  b.  d. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (coming  down}.  I  told  you 
we  should  find  this  room  empty. 

\_Looks  about. 

Fred.  But  that  doesn't  tell  me  why 
you  asked  me  to  bring  you  here. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Perhaps  to  cheat  you  out  of 
your  dance  with  our  host's  pretty  daughter. 

Fred.  I  might  answer  you  in  kind. 
But  it 's  fairer  to  tell  you  that  your  mask 
is  no  disguise. 


Man  Proposes  255 

Mrs.  V.  T.     You  know  me  ? 

Fred.  Yes.  You  are  "  our  host's 
pretty  daughter." 

Mrs.  V.  T.  I  am  but  a  poor  actress  if 
I  have  played  my  part  so  badly. 

Fred.  Indeed,  no.  Even  now  I  find  it 
hard  to  believe,  your  acting  is  so  perfect. 
If  I  had  not  known  your  domino,  I  should 
never  have  recognised  you. 

Mrs.  V.  T.     My  domino  ? 

Fred.  I  overheard  it  mentioned.  I  was 
sorry  to  learn  your  secret,  but  really  I 
could  n't  help  it. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  It  really  does  not  matter. 
But  I  am  glad  you  told  me.  Most  men 
would  have  kept  mum  and  let  me  talk 
on  about  "  our  host's  pretty  daughter," 
and  then  have  never  let  me  hear  the  last 
of  it. 

Fred.  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  no  better  than 
the  rest  of  my  sex,  Miss  Wortley.  With 
most  women  I  should  have  done  that. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  And  why  am  I  an  ex« 
ception  ? 

Fred.     I  did  n't  want  to  deceive  you. 


256          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Mrs.  V.  T.     Why  not  ? 

Fred.  Because  I  wanted  you  to  think 
well  of  me. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Why,  I  do  that  already. 
If  you  only  knew  how  I  respected  and 
admired  the  men  who  have  been  real 
friends,  and  not  seekers  of  my  money  ! 

Fred.  Miss  Wortley,  I  thank  you  for 
your  kind  thoughts  of  me,  but  you  must  n't 
think  them  any  longer. 

Mrs.  V.  T.     Why  not  ? 

Fred.  Because  I  don't  deserve  them. 
Do  you  remember  our  first  meeting? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (aside).  Gracious !  I  hope 
I  'm  not  to  be  cross-examined.  (Aloud, 
hesitatingly)  It  was  on  a  yacht,  was  n't  it? 

Fred.  After  that  cruise  I  came  back 
to  my  desk  and  bachelor  quarters,  but 
neither  they  nor  I  have  been  the  same 
since.  It 's  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  a 
bit  of  heaven  had  come  into  my  life  in 
those  days.  Every  hour  since  has  been 
consecrated  to  an  ideal.  I  have  worked 
as  I  was  never  able  to  work  before.  And 
why  ?  Because  I  was  straining  every  fibre 


Man  Proposes  257 

to  win  money  and  position  enough  to  be 
able  to  come  to  you  and  say  :  "  Miss 
Wortley,  I  love  you  as  a  man  must  love 
one  so  sweet  and  beautiful.  I  'm  not  rich, 
but  if  you  can  care  for  me  enough  to 
make  a  few  sacrifices  I  will  try  and  keep 
you  from  regretting  them,  by  love  and 
tenderness. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  But,  Mr.  Stevens,  you 
seem  to  forget  that  the  man  I  marry  will 
be  made  rich  at  once.  (Aside.)  Ugh,  I 
feel  like  a  brute. 

Fred.  I  Ve  tried  to  forget  it,  but  I 
could  n't.  It  has  come  between  us  in 
the  past ;  is  it  to  do  so  in  the  future  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Mr.  Stevens,  I  can't  tell 
you  my  grief  in  finding  you  like  the  rest 
of  my  disinterested  masculine  friends. 

Fred  (hotly).  You  think  I  care  for  your 
money  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  What  else  can  I  think? 
(Aside.}  You  cat ! 

Agnes  (starting  to  pull  aside  curtain^ 
sotto  voce  to  Stuart).  Oh  !  I  must  n't  — 

Stuart  (checking  her).     No,  don't  inter- 


258          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

fere,  Mrs.  Van  Tromp.  Let  the  poor 
fellow  take  the  whole  dose  while  he's 
about  it. 

Fred  (who  has  gone  up  back  and  now 
comes  down}.  Miss  Wortley,  do  you 
realize  what  you  are  saying  ?  In  the  last 
minute  you  have  three  times  deliberately 
insulted  me.  Say  you  don't  love  me,  if 
that  is  so,  but  don't  impute  shameful  mo- 
tives to  my  love.  It  is  of  value  to  me 
if  worthless  to  you. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Mr.  Stevens,  frankness 
under  such  circumstances  is  best  for  all. 
Put  yourself  in  my  place.  I  am  an 
heiress,  with  expectations  from  my  father. 
You  acknowledge  yourself  that  you  are 
poor.  Don't  blame  me  if  I  draw  my  own 
conclusions. 

Fred.  But  I  will  blame  you,  and  it  is 
the  last  time  I  shall  ever  trouble  you. 
You  ask  me  to  put  myself  in  your  place : 
let  us  try  the  reverse.  I  offer  you  a  love 
as  true  and  unmercenary  as  was  ever 
offered  a  woman.  What  do  I  deserve  at 
your  hands  ?  Mercy,  at  least.  But  in- 


Man  Proposes  259 

stead,  you  —  you  have  not  been  content 
to  reject  it  —  you  have  poisoned  it 
forever. 

\_Tiirns  and  walks  up  stage  to  b.  d. 
MRS.  VAN  TROMP  begins  to  take 
off  mask.  AGNES  springs  from 
bay  window,  and  rushes  for- 
ward c. 

Agnes.  One  moment,  Mr.  Stevens. 
(To  Mrs.  V.  T.  tearfully)  Oh,  Frances, 
how  could  you  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.  (taking  off  mask].  I 
couldn't.  I  was  unmasking  to  show  him 
his  mistake. 

[FRED    stands    hesitating,    looking 
from  one  to  the  other.     STUART'S 
head  through  curtains. 
Fred.     You  are  not  Miss  Wortley  ? 
Agnes    (taking    off    mask].      No,    Mr. 
Stevens.     Miss  Wortley  never  thought  you 
a   fortune-hunter.      She   remembers   per- 
fectly the  first  time  she  met  you.     She 's 
glad   she    brought   a    little    heaven    into 
your   life.      She's   glad    that   you  —  that 
you  — 


260          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Fred  (rushing  down  stage).  That  I  love 
you  ? 

Agnes.     Yes. 

Fred.  And  you  are  willing  to  make  the 
sacrifice  ? 

Agnes.     Yes. 

Fred.     And  you  care  for  me  ? 

Agnes.  No  (holds  out  her  hand],  I  love 
you. 

Fred  (taking  and  kissing  it).  My 
treasure  !  [Both  retire  up  back  I. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Heigho!  That's  what 
comes  of  wrong-doing.  In  trying  to  win 
my  wager,  I  Ve  actually  helped  Mr.  Stuart 
to  beat  me. 

Stuart  (head  through  curtains).  For 
which  I  can't  thank  you  enough ! 

Mrs.  V.  T.     You! 

Stuart.     Exactly !  Are  n't  you  ashamed  ? 

\_Comes  out  c. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Of  being  defeated?  Yes. 
But  don't  be  too  triumphant.  You  did  n't 
win  single-handed. 

Stuart.  I  certainly  did  not  have  much 
assistance,  except  from  Mrs.  Van  Tromp. 


Man  Proposes  261 

Mrs.  V.  T.  On  the  contrary,  you  had 
the  best  assistance  in  the  world.  I  ought 
to  have  known  better  than  bet  against  so 
powerful  a  coalition  as  Mr.  Stuart  and 
Cupid.  I  only  hope  my  behaviour  has 
made  me  odious  to  you! 

[Crosses  petulantly  to  r. 

Stuart.  On  the  contrary,  I  'm  rather 
fond  of  real  deviltry!  So,  if  agreeable, 
we  '11  settle  the  stakes  at  once. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  I  throw  myself  on  your 
mercy. 

Stuart.  And  what  mercy  would  you 
have  shown  me,  had  I  lost  ? 

Mrs.  V.  T.    Yes,  but  then  I  'm  a  woman. 

Stuart.     Deo  gratia. 

Mrs.  V.  T.  And  you  know,  Mr.  Stuavt, 
a  woman  is  never  expected  to  pay  her 
bets. 

Stuart.  There  's  one  woman  who  will 
pay  hers  to  me,  and  that  promptly.  At- 
tention, please.  As  a  forfeit,  you  are  to  say 
to  me,  "  I  love  you." 

Mrs.  V.  T.  Ah,  Mr.  Stuart,  don't  make 
me  tell  any  more  untruths ! 


262          Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart  {taking  her  hand].  Don't  say  it 
then ;  tell  me  without  words. 

\Stoops  head  and  they  kiss.     Sounds 

of  altercation  outside. 
Agnes  (coming     down      with      FRED). 
What's   that? 

CHARLIE  and  REG.  enter  at  b.  d.  and 
come  down. 

Charlie.  Well,  you  reprethentative  of  a 
graveyard,  you  juth  athk  her. 

Reg.  Ask  her?  I  tell  you  she's  en- 
gaged to  me.  (Sees  Stuart)*  Aw,  Mr. 
Stuart,  you  Ve  lost  your  wager. 

Stuart  (to  Agnes].  Has  Mr.  Van  Tromp 
proposed  to  you  this  evening? 

Agnes.     No. 

Charlie  (reeling  with  laughter  against 
mantel}.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  Oh,  thith 
ith  rich !  Oh,  I  thall  die  of  laughing ! 
Oh,  thum  one  thtop  me !  To  think 
of  the  proud  and  haughty  Reginald 
De  Lanthy  Van  Tromp  propothing 
to  the  wrong  girl,  —  ha,  ha,  ha,  hc\ 
ho,  ho! 


Man  Proposes  263 

Stuart.  Laugh  away,  Newbank.  Get 
it  all  in  now,  for  it  won't  last. 

Charlie.  Won't  latht  ?  I  don't  under- 
thtand  you. 

[POLLY,  with  domino  on  her  arm, 
appears  at  b.  d.  —  looks  in,  and 
starts  back  as  if  frightened. 

Agnes.     Come  here,  Polly. 

[POLLY  comes  down  r.  between 
CHARLIE  and  REG. 

Stuart.  Here  is  the  minx  who  can 
make  all  clear.  Polly,  did  Mr.  Newbank 
propose  to  you? 

Polly.     Yes,  sir. 

Reg.  Oh,  deah,  how  funny !  Haw,  haw, 
haw!  But  then,  people  in  his  station 
always  do  take  maids.  Pwoposing  to  a 
servant ! 

Polly.  But  you  proposed  to  me  too, 
Mr.  Van  Tromp. 

Charlie  (laughing  very  hard}.  Holy 
Motheth,  but  I  thall  thertainly  die  of 
laughing ! 

Polly.  Please,  Miss  Wortley,  forgive 
me? 


264         Tattle-Tales  of  Cupid 

Stuart.  Yes.  Remember  what  she 
has  done  for  (points  to  Fred  and  Agnes) 
you  two. 

Fred.  And  for  (pointing  at  Stuart  and 
Mrs.  V.  T.)  those  two. 

Agnes.     But  she  must  have  a  lesson. 

Stuart.  Why,  we  Ve  all  had  a  lesson  — 
on  the  mysterious  means  Cupid  employs  to 
accomplish  his  purposes. 

Mrs.  V.  T.     Verily  't  is  so : 

"  Love  goes  by  haps, 
Some  Cupid  kills  with  arrows,  some  with  trap*." 

CURTAIN 


i    '"         .  QO 


